


blackbirds in the sky

by RecklessWriter



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anbu Hatake Kakashi, Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, Child Soldiers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Hyuuga Hinata-centric, No Uchiha Massacre, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, The Hyuuga Incident, Uchiha Itachi Being a Good Brother, Uchiha Sasuke-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22094521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RecklessWriter/pseuds/RecklessWriter
Summary: Sasuke presses his opponent into the ground, his blade kissing the man's throat. And suddenly, he finds himself staring into a pair of deeply familiar Sharingan eyes."Sasuke?" the shinobi breathes, in stunned disbelief.And Sasuke freezes. Because heknowsthat voice.When Sasuke and Hinata are three years old, they are taken by Kumogakure and raised to become trained killers. Ten years later, Itachi still hasn't given up on finding his little brother — but even once the two children are found, returning home is no simple thing.
Relationships: Hyuuga Hinata & Hyuuga Neji, Hyuuga Hinata & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 200
Kudos: 962
Collections: Best of Naruto Fanfics





	1. sending a raven

**Author's Note:**

> The Sasuke-and-Hinata-friendship-within-a-wartorn-childhood story I've been meaning to write is finally here :) It's where, during the Hyuuga Incident, both Hinata and Sasuke are kidnapped and raised in Kumo. The focus is meant to be on Hinata and Sasuke's friendship, but knowing me, I'll probably end up focusing equally on Sasuke and Itachi's relationship.
> 
> It's also meant to focus on both Sasuke and Hinata EQUALLY... but Sasuke is my favorite, so I might end up leaning slightly more in his direction without meaning to...

Hiashi wakes to the sound of a soft cry. He groans as he is pulled from his deep slumber, mind hazy from sleep, as he struggles to comprehend where the noise came from.

The cry comes again, this time sharper. Hiashi is aware enough now to recognize it as his daughter.

The noise is familiar, and Hiashi sighs. _Another nightmare._ They started a few months ago and haven’t stopped since. It was worrying at first, but Hiashi was assured that it was normal for a child Hinata’s age. Toddlers often get nightmares, his sister-in-law told him.

The crying continues to pierce through the house, showing no signs of quieting. Hiashi goes to carefully remove his wife’s arm from his waist, maneuvering out of her embrace, but she catches him as he moves to get up, also woken by their daughter’s cries.

“Stay here,” she says. “I’ll get her.”

Hiashi frowns at her, her exhaustion clear even in the darkened room. “But you got her last time.”

“It’s okay,” Misaki responds. “I don’t mind.” She offers him a smile. “Besides, some things require a mother’s touch.”

Hiashi wants to contradict this, but knows she speaks truly. For as much as he loves his daughter, he does not have the gentle manner she needs. The battlefield has left him too rough around the edges, and he cannot soothe her with a soft voice and tender hands. So, he allows his wife to slip from the bed.

Hiashi closes his eyes and attempts to fall back to sleep, though he knows that it is useless now. Once he’s been woken up, it’s almost impossible for him to relax again. Hinata’s cries have left him too on edge, a hypervigilance that has lingered with him since the end of the war. It causes his muscles to tense at the slightest sound.

He hears Hinata cry a few more times. Hiashi focuses on his breathing, banishing images of his comrades bleeding out beneath his hands. Finally, just as he begins to drift off—

“Hinata! _Let her go_!”

Misaki’s scream snaps his eyes open, ignites fear in his chest. He’s out of bed and down the hall in an instant, kunai in his hand and Byakugan activated.

“Hinata!” he hears his wife yell. “No—!”

There’s a loud crash, followed by a thud. Then, a terrified, childish shriek that makes Hiashi’s heart freeze.

“ _Mama_!”

Hiashi barges into Hinata’s room just as a dark shape leaps out the bedroom window, shattering the glass. In the figure’s arms, thrown over their shoulder, is a sobbing, struggling child.

_Hinata!_

In all his years as a shinobi, Hiashi has never felt the terror he feels then. The moment he glimpses his daughter in danger, crying out as she is stolen away. Misaki is on the floor, unconscious. It takes his eyes less than a fraction of a second to confirm that she is breathing, and then he is leaping out of the window after his daughter.

He cuts himself on a shard of broken glass from the window. He ignores the pain that rips through his side, the blood that soaks into his thin nightshirt. The only thing that matters is killing the man who is taking his daughter away, getting Hinata to safety—

He lands on the empty street, heart pounding with fear and rage. His Byakugan cuts through the darkness, his hand tight on the kunai as he turns a corner—

There is nobody there. The street is deserted. The enemy is gone.

_Hinata is gone._

Still bursting with adrenaline—terror, fury, rage—Hiashi rejects the sight in front of him. He rejects the empty road, the silent compound, the motionless night. He refuses reality.

His daughter isn’t gone. She can’t be gone. He needs to _get her back_ —

He runs through the darkened streets of the Hyuuga compound, his desperation making him look half-crazed. His Byakugan scans each and every chakra signature, but every one that he finds is familiar. Members of the clan, tucked away in their houses.

The truth begins to sink in. It crashes over him like a tidal wave, a despair so strong that it nearly sends him to his knees. He feels empty, hollow, as the realization sinks in.

_Hinata is gone._

He goes back to his home, to his wife, with hands that shake and a heart that pounds. He shakes Misaki awake, feeling as though he’s dangling on the edge of a cliff. There’s blood on her face, dripping down the side of her head, and Hiashi's terror makes it feel like his heart will explode. _Wake up wake up please—_

Misaki wakes up with Hinata’s name on her lips, terror on her face. “Hinata—Hiashi, _Hinata_ —”

He looks down at her, the crippling pain in his chest twisting his face. Her face crumples as she looks at him.

“No…” A tear slides down her beautiful face. A sob rips from her throat. “ _No, no_ , _no_ —!”

She collapses in his arms and _wails_.

* * *

Itachi’s eyes snap open sharply, as he is jarred abruptly out of sleep. He was dreaming of something, but it’s gone now, and for a moment he simply lays there, staring up at the ceiling, as he searches for the noise that woke him.

Down the hall, the floorboard creaks. Itachi is instantly alert, sitting up and wrapping his hand around the kunai he keeps under his pillow. His heartbeat pounds in his chest.

_Someone’s in the house._

He considers, for a moment, the possibility that he imagined it. He doesn’t hear anything else. Perhaps it’s Sasuke, getting up to use the bathroom. But he does this all the time, and it rarely ever wakes Itachi up. Whatever the noise was, it startled him awake instantly.

He decides it’s better safe than sorry. The eight-year-old grips his kunai tightly, slipping from the bed. The floor is cold against his bare feet.

He’s more nervous than he should be as he slips from his room, into the hallway. He wonders if his parents have arrived home yet. Konoha and Kumo are celebrating the signing of the peace treaty between them, but the sky is awfully dark by now. Surely the festivities must be over?

Itachi bites his bottom lip, his breathing loud in the silence. His footsteps are soundless against the floorboards, as he reaches the end of the hallway. He turns the knob of his parents’ bedroom door, wincing as the hinges creak.

The room is empty. The bed, sheets undisturbed, causes him to frown. He was sure his parents would be home by now. _The celebrations are still going on?_

A sudden cry breaks the stillness, causing Itachi to jump.

“ _Nii-sa_ —!”

The voice is filled with terror, coming from the other end of the hall. It cuts off abruptly, and Itachi’s blood turns ice-cold.

_Sasuke!_

For a moment, his own fear paralyzes him. His muscles are locked in place— _too slow, too slow, what are you doing, move_ —and the fright in his brother’s voice freezes him. His legs forget how to work.

Then Sasuke screams again, sharp and _afraid_. “Nii-san!”

Itachi _runs_.

His pulse is loud in his ears, and he can feel himself shaking as he runs in the direction of the call. He’s never heard his brother sound so terrified, and he hasn’t been this scared since the night of the Kyuubi attack. _I’m coming, Sasuke!_

The metal of the kunai bites into the palm of his hand. His mind throws out dozens of horrifying images. A knife at Sasuke’s throat—Sasuke’s blood on the floor—Sasuke limp and unmoving—

Itachi saw his first corpse at the age of four. He remembers it perfectly. He imagines that same corpse, but smaller, with his little brother’s face. He runs faster.

A dark shape flies out of his brother’s bedroom just as Itachi reaches it. Itachi’s heart jumps, his bare feet skidding on the floor as his eyes widen. It’s a man, a _shinobi_ , and he has Sasuke thrown carelessly over his shoulder. The toddler isn’t screaming anymore, or even struggling—he’s unconscious.

The shinobi looks down, swearing under his breath as he spots Itachi. Sasuke is completely limp, and there is blood visible on his lips.

Itachi’s mind goes blank with anger. His vision goes red.

“ _Let go of my brother_ ,” he says.

The shinobi seems to sneer at him, unimpressed by the eight-year-old threatening him. He doesn’t engage him, simply turns around and runs. Itachi takes off after him, as he speeds around the corner and toward the front door. Itachi throws his kunai with deadly accuracy.

The kunai hits the arm that’s holding Sasuke on his shoulder. The shinobi grunts, nearly dropping him, but manages to keep him there. He pulls the kunai from his arm, spinning around to throw it back. Itachi catches the glint of his hitai-ate as he does.

He recognizes the symbol on the metal immediately. _Kumogakure._

Itachi dodges the kunai, not stopping. The shinobi makes it out the door, into the empty streets of the compound. Itachi chases after him, pushing all his chakra to the balls of his feet. He has no weapon, nothing to attack with except his fists, but he keeps running.

“Sasuke!”

His voice echoes in the dark street, bouncing off of buildings. He wants someone to wake up, to look out their window and realize what is happening. But no one does, and Itachi is alone. The only one who can save his baby brother.

The Cloud shinobi runs, and Itachi chases after him. His chest burns with desperation, with fear, his eyes locked on the form of his brother. His mind chants a single word, beating in tandem with his heart: _protectprotectprotect_.

Itachi gets close enough to attack. He leaps in the air, but the man’s reflexes are lightning fast, and he grabs Itachi by the elbow. Itachi grabs his arm with his other hand, using it as leverage to twist his body up. He aims his foot at the shinobi’s chin, but it only grazed his cheek as it’s dodged. The hand gripping his elbow slides down to his wrist, and then it _twists_.

Bone snaps, and pain shoots through his arm. Itachi cries out as he falls to the ground, cradling his wrist.

He wishes he had the Sharingan. He’d give anything for it to awaken. But the only thing stinging at his eyes are tears, and he forces the pain away, pulling himself back up. _No. I won’t let you take him. I won’t—_

He moves so fast that his body blurs. Shisui would be impressed. He makes a grab for his brother, but a hand tangles in his hair, yanking him up by his ponytail. Pain slices through his scalp.

He kicks out wildly, but the attacks are aimless, and are easily avoided. “You fucking _brat_ ,” the man snarls.

Itachi cries out as the hand in his hair twists roughly. A fist lands solidly in his gut.

He flies backward, the breath punched from him and his world spinning. He hits the ground _hard_ , stars bursting in front of his eyes. Itachi gasps, struggling to regain his breath, and then accidentally uses his broken wrist to push off the ground. He falls back with a pained gasp.

Tears stinging his eyes, he raises his head. When he sees the empty street in front of him, he feels as something inside him shatters.

“No,” Itachi whispers. He stares blankly at the sidewalk in front of him, his eyes uncomprehending. “No…”

(He remembers his mother with a bundle of blankets in her arms, beckoning him closer with a tired smile. _Itachi-kun. Come meet your baby brother._ )

He drags himself forward, shaking his head. ”No,” he says, denial coursing through him. “No, no, no, no, no—”

Around him, the streets are deserted. Itachi begins to shake, and a tear slips down his cheek. Despair crashes over him, stealing his lungs.

( _Make sure you take care of him, okay?_ )

Itachi’s hand slips from under him, and he falls onto the dirt road. A sob escapes his lips.

Sasuke is _gone_.

* * *

The celebrations lasted far longer than either of them thought they would. By the time Fugaku and Mikoto make it back to the Uchiha District, the sky has long since turned dark. The moon is the only light in the sky.

“Finally,” Fugaku says. “If I had to smile at one more Cloud shinobi only _pretending_ to like us, I was going to scream. What an utter waste of my time.”

Mikoto casts her husband a chiding glance. “Don’t speak like that. Remember, Kumogakure is our ally now. That was the point of the celebration.”

Fugaku rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into this treaty, Mikoto. Cooperation is merely a quieter form of conflict. The Cloud will not give up its grievances so easily. We are being lured into a false sense of camaraderie, and Sarutobi is a fool for not seeing it.”

“He only wishes to end the conflict,” she attempts to appease him. “And don’t we all? None of us wish for another war. The last one has barely ended.”

Fugaku seems placated by this, just slightly. His expression loses some of its sharp edges. She reaches down to interlace their fingers as they walk, leaning closer to him. His sharpness softens further.

Truthfully, Mikoto has her own misgivings about this newfound alliance with Kumo. She has her doubts about whether the other village will honor it. But she doesn’t approve of her husband’s constant need to voice it. With the suspicions already levelled on their clan, Fugaku only makes it worse by doubting the Sandaime’s decisions so openly.

“Do you think Itachi is worried?” she asks. “We weren’t expecting to be out so late. I hope Sasuke didn’t give him any trouble.”

Fugaku’s mouth curves up. “Trouble? Not likely. He’s better with that kid than either of us are.”

Mikoto smiles at that. It’s true. She’s never seen a sibling bond like the one between her two sons. She was certainly never as close to her own older sister as Sasuke is to Itachi. Itachi seems to understand Sasuke better than they ever can, and Sasuke delights at being by his brother’s side more than he ever does at either of theirs.

Sometimes, Mikoto worries that it’s their own failure as parents that caused this. That maybe they aren’t around enough, aren’t showing their three-year-old enough attention. But most days, she’s just glad that her baby has an older sibling as loving and devoted as Itachi.

“You’re right,” she tells her husband. “It just makes me nervous to leave them alone sometimes.”

It’s a fear left over from the Kyuubi attack—that night when she lost her best friend and came close to losing her sons as well. It terrifies her to think about. Fugaku senses the direction her thoughts have drifted in, his fingers tightening around hers.

It doesn’t take them long to reach their house. Most of the surrounding houses are dark, but in theirs, there’s a light still shining in the window. Mikoto frowns when she sees it.

“They should be in bed by now.”

Fugaku’s expression shifts just slightly, but he’s quick to hide any concern he might be feeling. “Relax. I’m sure they’re fine.”

He unlocks the front door, stepping into the house. “Itachi?” Mikoto calls softly, as they step into the kitchen, where the light is coming from.

Itachi throws himself at her the second she enters the room, pressing his face against her stomach. Mikoto freezes in surprise, spotting the glint of tears on his face.

“Itachi-kun—”

“ _Mom_ ,” he gasps, his voice shaking. “Mom, I tr _-tried_ , but he—”

He sobs, his tears soaking into her shirt, and alarm shoots through Mikoto’s heart. She hasn’t seen her son cry like this since he was still in his cradle, waking her up in the middle of the night.

“Sweetheart?” she asks hesitantly. Itachi shakes his head, the fingers of his left hand twisting into her shirt. There’s dirt on his face, and she circles him with her arms as he presses closer. “Baby, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Mikoto. Fugaku.”

Mikoto was so fixated on her distressed eight-year-old, she failed to notice the other person in the room. Hiruzen Sarutobi is sitting at their kitchen table, adorned in his Hokage robes. His face is grim.

Mikoto’s eyes widen when she sees him. She just saw him earlier that evening at the celebrations, though they didn’t speak. “Hokage-sama.”

Fugaku’s expression hardens the moment he sees him, his eyes becoming flinty. He makes an attempt to pull Itachi to his side, but the boy is clutching tightly to Mikoto’s shirt, refusing to be moved.

“Lord Third. To what do we owe the honor? We spoke earlier tonight, did we not?”

Sarutobi bows his head slightly, and his expression sends a chill up Mikoto’s spine. Fear blooms in her chest. “What is it? What’s happened?”

The Sandaime is silent, his eyes old and sad, and Mikoto is hit with a horrible premonition. She looks down at her distraught child, her heart cold. “Itachi—Itachi, where’s your brother? Is he sleeping?”

Itachi sobs again, though this one sounds more like a wail. “I’m s- _sorry_ ,” he cries, his fingers pulling at her blouse. His other hand is at his side. _It’s hurt,_ she realizes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t _st-stop h-him_ —”

Mikoto feels her hands shake. She looks at the Third with eyes bright with fear. “What happened to Sasuke?”

The old man doesn’t respond, a grieving expression passing over his face. Something explodes in Mikoto’s chest. Her heart is so cold that it burns, and she pulls herself out of Itachi’s grip, grabbing the Hokage by the front of his robes.

“What _happened_ to my _son_?!”

“ _Mikoto_ ,” Fugaku warns her, but she ignores him. Her hands are trembling, her breathing erratic. The Sandaime reaches up slowly, covering her hands with his own aged, wrinkled ones.

“Please sit down, Mikoto.”

Slowly, Mikoto releases him and sits down on a chair. Fugaku stands behind her, his presence heavy. Itachi trembles next to her.

The Third explains to her, gently, what took place less than an hour ago. But it doesn’t matter how kind he makes his words, because nothing could ever soften the blow. Mikoto feels as if her heart has given out, as if whoever took Sasuke took that as well. She hunches over in her seat, hands on her knees, tears slipping down her cheeks.

 _Sasuke,_ she thinks desperately. The noose around her neck tightens, making her unable to breathe, and she sobs. Her lungs stutter as she struggles to draw in air. _Not my baby, please no…_

Fugaku’s face is bone-white, and his hands shake against the table. There’s something dark in his eyes, and as Mikoto breaks, he _snaps_.

Anger comes to life on his face, born out of pain. He spins on Itachi, fury clouding his expression. “How could you let this happen?!”

His voice is like a thunderclap, and Itachi flinches violently. He stares at his father with startled eyes. “I—I didn’t—”

Fugaku steps toward him, speaking over his stuttering. “You were supposed to watch him! I told you not to let him out of your sight! What the hell were you thinking—!”

“Fugaku!” Mikoto yells sharply, as a sob is torn from Itachi’s throat. “That is _enough_!”

Itachi is trembling, tears on his cheeks. He looks broken, utterly _devastated_. Through her own tears, Mikoto glares at her husband. She sees the moment he realizes what he’s said, sees how the guilt crashes over him.

Mikoto reaches out an arm, beckoning her son over to her. The shaking boy approaches her slowly, warily, and she doesn’t hesitate to pull him against her. She wraps her arms around him, pressing her face against the top of his head.

“It’s okay,” she tells him, her voice cracking. She rubs her hand down his back. “It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault…”

He feels so fragile in her arms, so breakable. It’s been a long time since he’s been this small, since he’s allowed her to hold him like this. Her heart aches as she presses him closer.

He lets out a small sob. “I’m _sorry_.”

She pets his hair, whispering soothing words in his ear. She tells him, again, not to be sorry, as she presses him close, breathing him in. Reminding herself that he’s here, that he’s _safe_.

Fugaku watches them for a long moment. The anger in his eyes has given way to a deep pain.

“Why did this happen?” he asks the Hokage. “Why Sasuke? Itachi, I understand. He’s my heir. But Sasuke holds no importance to the Clan—”

Mikoto feels Itachi stiffen against her, his eyes flashing. Mikoto rubs circles in his back to soothe him, knowing Fugaku didn’t mean the words in the cruel way they sounded. _He didn’t mean it like that. You know he didn’t. Shh…_

The Sandaime’s face is solemn as he replies. “Your son was not the only child taken tonight. The Hyuuga heiress was kidnapped, as well. She and Sasuke are the same age.”

Mikoto looks up at this news, her eyes still wet. “The Hyuuga child… wasn’t today her birthday?”

“That makes even _less_ sense,” Fugaku says. “She was heir to the Hyuuga. Taking her makes sense. Why take Sasuke?”

“You are right,” the Hokage says. “It makes more sense for them to take Itachi, not Sasuke. However, you are assuming that their reason for doing this was politically motivated. To use the children as bargaining tools. It’s possible this isn’t the case. More likely, the kidnapper was after the power of both your clans. The Sharingan and the Byakugan. Your children served as the easiest targets.”

Fugaku’s eyes are like steel. Mikoto remembers the last time he wore an expression like this—years before they were married, when he witnessed Mikoto’s father crack her across the jaw with his fist.

“And the man who took my son,” he says coldly. “Who is he?”

Sarutobi sighs, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, Hiashi and his wife didn’t get a good look at them. The kidnapper was male, but that’s all we know.”

“He was from Kumogakure.”

At the soft voice, the three adults look down. Itachi stares up at the Hokage, his jaw set.

“I threw a kunai at him,” he says quietly. “When he turned his head, I saw his headband. He was from Kumo.”

There’s a heaviness to Itachi’s voice. He understands the seriousness of what he’s revealed. There’s a tense silence, as Mikoto exchanges looks with the Hokage and her husband. _Cloud. Cloud kidnapped my son._

“Itachi-kun,” Sarutobi says, “are you positive?”

“I know what I saw,” Itachi says. His face is as grave as the Sandaime’s. It’s not an expression a child should wear.

A shinobi from the Hidden Cloud Village is responsible for kidnapping two children from Konoha. This makes the treaty the nations just signed, that they were just celebrating, null and void. Unless this can somehow be resolved, the conflict between Kumo and Konoha will be reignited.

Fugaku hardens his jaw. “I knew that treaty was nothing more than a farse.”

“Do not jump to conclusions,” the Sandaime says. “We don’t know if this was the Cloud’s doing. It’s possible this shinobi acted alone.”

“You don’t really believe that.”

Sarutobi sighs, his lips a thin line. “No,” he admits. “I don’t. But I won’t incite a conflict by making baseless accusations. We will discover who did this. But we must do it carefully.”

Fugaku doesn’t respond, just tightens his jaw even further. The despair in Itachi’s eyes has morphed into something harder, something determined. He presses himself closer to her chair, his face against her shoulder.

“We’ll get him back,” he whispers. “I promise, Mom, we’ll get him back.”

* * *

Neji is very confused by everything that is going on. He’s also very sad, because Father says that Hinata-sama is _gone_.

He reaches up to rub at the seal on his forehead—the seal that he received yesterday, at Hinata-sama’s birthday celebration. His father and uncle are sitting at a table not too far away, along with his uncle’s wife. The Hokage is also there, wearing his red and white robes, along with two other people that Neji doesn’t recognize.

His uncle looks angry, and Hinata-sama’s mother looks distressed. He can’t see the look on his father’s face, because his back is facing Neji. The other man and woman, the pair he doesn’t recognize, are also sitting with their backs to him. They have a clan crest on their clothes, but Neji can’t place which one it is.

Father would be disappointed, if he knew. He taught Neji to recognize the crests of every clan.

The air in the room is very solemn, and the people at the table are talking in very heavy voices. Neji tries to follow their conversation, but there are a lot of words he doesn’t understand, and nearly half of it goes over his head. He stops listening.

He knows the reason for this meeting is because Hinata-sama is missing. Someone snuck into her home last night and stole her. That’s why everyone is upset. That’s why Father hasn’t stopped frowning. That’s why his mother was crying this morning.

Neji is upset, too. He only met Hinata-sama yesterday, on her birthday, but he could tell immediately how kind she was. He could sense it. He doesn’t understand why anyone would want to kidnap someone who looks so sweet, and the thought of her being hurt distresses him.

Yesterday, he was given the seal on his forehead. It really hurt, but Father says that the mark is a sign of his loyalty to the Head Family. A sign of his duty to protect Hinata-sama.

Hinata-sama is gone now, only hours after Neji was tasked with keeping her safe. Has he failed in his duty already? Has he brought shame upon the Branch Family?

“Hey,” a voice says. “Are you okay?”

Neji jumps slightly, looking up to his right. There’s a boy standing next to the steps where Neji is sitting. He looks a few years older than Neji, around eight or nine. He has dark hair that’s pulled back in a tie and serious eyes.

“I’m Itachi Uchiha,” he says. “Those are my parents up there.”

 _Uchiha,_ Neji realizes, as he’s finally able to put a name to the familiar clan symbol he couldn’t remember. _Of course._

“I’m Neji Hyuuga,” he says. He’s slightly nervous, now knowing this boy is from the Uchiha Clan. He’s heard things about them from his parents that aren’t so nice.

But the boy in front of him doesn’t _look_ like an unkind person. He smiles at Neji and asks, “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

After a moment of hesitation, Neji shakes his head. The boy—Itachi—sits down on the step next to him. For a while, neither of them speaks. Neji thinks about Hinata-sama, rubbing the seal on his forehead.

_I hope she’s okay, wherever she is. I hope she comes home soon._

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” Itachi says, interrupting his thoughts. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

Neji blinks, touching his face. To his own surprise, there are tears on his cheeks. He didn’t realize he was crying. He swipes at the tears, ducking his head in embarrassment. “S-Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I said it was okay.”

They fall silent again, not speaking. Neji turns his attention back to the adults at the table, trying once again to understand what they’re saying. They bring up Kumogakure a lot, and the stern man with the Uchiha crest on his back seems angry. Neji’s uncle seems angry as well, and Father often has to place a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

Neji turns to look at his companion, to see if he is also lost. But Itachi is watching the conversation with sharp eyes, and he seems to be following along with every word. Sometimes, when one of the adults says something, he reacts by clenching his jaw or tightening his fist.

“Do you understand what they’re talking about?” he asks.

Itachi doesn’t seem to hear him at first, but then he pulls his gaze away from the table. “Kumo broke their treaty with Konoha when they kidnapped your cousin and my brother. If the Hokage accuses the Raikage of this without proof, then it’s possible that a war could break out between the two nations.”

Something sinks to the bottom of Neji’s stomach at the word. _War_. He doesn’t fully understand the reality of this word, but he’s heard the weight in his parents’ voices when they speak it. He knows it’s something he doesn’t want to happen.

His mind processes the rest of the words, and he frowns. _His brother was taken, too? For the same reason as Hinata-sama?_

“The Hokage is hesitant about approaching the Raikage,” Itachi says. “If he denies the accusations and is offended, fighting will break out. If he admits he had a part in it, fighting will also break out. Lots of shinobi could end up dying.”

Neji stares, struggling to wrap his head around such a complicated concept. He fails. The boy next to him isn’t much older than he is, but he seems to already understand the world the same way adults do.

Neji watches him closely. There’s a deep pain in his eyes, a deep ache. He seems broken by something, and Neji hurts for him.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” he says.

Itachi tenses, his eyes going sharp. “Don’t say that.”

Neji flinches back, surprised at the harshness suddenly in the boy’s voice. Like daggers.

“I—I’m sorry,” he says. “I just meant—”

“Don’t talk about him like he’s already dead.” Itachi’s expression is like steel, but there’s also something desperate to it. His jaw clenches. “He’s _not_ dead. He’s _not_. I’m going to find him.”

Neji looks at the boy, at the resolution in his eyes, and in that moment he makes the same vow to himself.

He reaches up, touching his fingers to the mark on his forehead. _I’m going to find you, Hinata-sama. I promise, I’ll never stop looking._

* * *

The Raikage denies any and all accusations of stealing the two three-year-old children. Offended by such slander and disrespect, the newly-formed treaty between Kumo and Konoha quickly dissolves. The Hokage does not want any more fighting, not so soon after the end of the last war. But the Hyuuga and the Uchiha will not let this go, and the single issue multiplies into a dozen more. Conflict between the two nations resumes, but this time, much worse than it was before.

Itachi is eight years old when Konoha sends him to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stop starting new stories... oh well, too late now XD
> 
> Hope I've peaked your interest with this  
> chapter :) This chapter is mostly setting the story up. After this, there will be a massive timeskip of 10 years.
> 
> Also, I've never written Mikoto and Fugaku before... but I really enjoyed writing their characters for some reason... :)


	2. blackbird in the sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I kind of jumped the gun with the first chapter, and I posted it before I even planned the story out. But now I know where this story is actually going, so updates should be quicker.
> 
> Also, if you didn't notice, I made some changes to the first chapter about two weeks ago. Nothing major, just some added dialogue and I elaborated a bit more on Neji's scene (and how he already has the cursed seal). It's not necessary to re-read it, but the word count did go from 3,700 to 5,000, so some of you might want to.

The man screams when she kills him. Hinata hates it when they scream.

She pulls the katana from between his ribs. His scream becomes a gurgle, blood bubbling up and spilling over his chin. Hinata fights a flinch, and forces herself to look at him. His eyes are a deep, deep brown.

He falls to the ground, his blood soaking into the sand. Hinata wipes her sword clean, returning it to her waist. Her hands are steady.

There’s a sickness roiling in her stomach, crawling up her throat. But it’s familiar to her now, and over the years it’s gotten easier to ignore. She pushes it away, as she always does, into the corner of her mind where all the other corpses lay.

But still, his eyes get stuck in her mind. Deep brown. _Afraid_.

She turns away from the body, pulling her hood up over her face. It fell down during the brief battle, and now she affixes it again, making sure her eyes are hidden. That her distinctive white irises aren’t visible.

It’s one of the two essential rules. _Never leave a target alive. Never let anyone see your eyes._

Sasuke is luckier than she is. He can switch his off. He only has to worry about being recognized when he’s near the Land of Fire. She has to cover her face wherever there’s sun.

Almost ten years have passed since she and Sasuke were stolen from their homes. Abducted in the middle of the night by the Hidden Cloud Village and thrown into a different life. A life of training, and orders, and discipline. A life of bloodshed and assassination. A life where they were molded into something perfect—a perfect tool, a perfect weapon, a perfect killer.

Both of their hands are stained thick with blood. They were created for a purpose, and that purpose is to serve their nation. _Konoha is not your home anymore,_ they were told. _We are._ Neither of them has dared to defy an order for years—they both remember the penalty for disobedience.

Hinata killed her first man when she was eight. She vomited afterwards, sobbing into Sasuke’s shoulder.

She doesn’t remember her life from before. Sometimes she can vaguely recall certain impressions and feelings, but she has no actual memories. Some days, she considers this to be a blessing. But on most days, she longs desperately for the things that her mind has forgotten.

She thinks that Sasuke remembers more than she does, but she isn’t sure. He doesn’t like to talk about it.

From what Hinata can tell, most of the Five Nations have forgotten about their existence. It’s been a decade, after all, and two missing children don’t hold much importance in the grander scale of the world. Konoha is the only place still actively searching, the only place where two three-year-old children haven’t faded from memory.

Still, despite this, Hinata is still ordered to cover her face wherever their assignments take them. The world might not instantly recognize their faces, but a Byakugan definitely arouses suspicion. And it only takes one witness for word to get back to the Leaf.

Sometimes, Hinata wonders if she actually _wants_ to return to the Leaf. She hates the life that she’s living—but it’s also the only one she knows. Even if a rescue did somehow come, she isn’t sure if she would welcome it.

She doesn’t know if Sasuke would, either. He’s extremely cagey on any and all subjects pertaining to their birthplace, and when Konoha does get mentioned, she gets the strangest sense of distrust from him.

She does know, however, that Sasuke will follow her wherever she goes. Just as she will with him. They promised each other, cheeks stained with tears and bodies wrapped around each other.

( _Promise that we’ll always stay together._ )

Sunagakure’s sun is hot against her skin, and she sweats under the black cloak that covers her. She’s near the edge of the village, in a remote area surrounded by desert. They were tasked with dispatching a single target and collecting intel. Since Sasuke, unlike her, can show his face, he got the bloodless part of the assignment while she was stuck with the dirty work.

They’re supposed to meet at the border of the village. Hinata walks there now, still struggling to blink brown eyes from her memory.

She thinks about the way the man cried out as her katana found his throat, slicing across it quickly and efficiently. She thinks about the way the blood bubbled between his lips, the way it turned the sand red. She thinks of terrified brown eyes, and how the light in them slowly went dull.

Her stomach churns. She doesn’t even know what the man’s name was. He was just a picture on a document to her. She wonders if he had a family—a wife, a son, a sister? She wonders if he has someone to miss him, if anyone will cry when they find his body.

She wonders if Sasuke feels the same way as her. Does he ever see their faces when he closes his eyes? Or does he cast them off as soon as it’s done, and it is only her that cannot forget?

Sometimes, Hinata wishes it was as easy for her as it was for him. Then she feels guilty for thinking that way, because she knows that he suffers just as much as she does. He’s just better at hiding it.

The heat beats down on her back as she walks. She’s sweating through her clothes, and it’s beginning to make her feel gross. She hopes that Sasuke has finished his assignment, because the idea of waiting around for him in this weather is unbearable. She wants to be back home.

Thankfully, Sasuke is waiting in the agreed place. Hinata sags in relief when she sees his silhouette in the distance, steadily growing in size. She stops in front of him.

“Hey,” she says. “Did the assignment go well?”

He gestures to the scroll on his belt as an answer. “What about you?” he asks. His eyes flicker over her, searching for any injures she might be concealing beneath her cloak.

“It went fine.”

He has no reason to be hurt, but it’s reflex for her to look him over anyway. Unlike her, he isn’t wearing a cloak, so he doesn’t have to suffer beneath the desert heat. Instead, he’s wearing a simple shirt and shorts, his sword sheathed at his hip. His hair, tied into a low ponytail, falls over his right shoulder. Light grains of sand glitter within the black strands.

Hinata frowns. “You have sand in your hair.”

She reaches out, combing the grains from his hair with her fingers. She wonders who Sasuke had to fight. They must have been good, if they managed to knock him to the ground. That rarely happens.

“You should cut this,” she tells him, as she lets the hair slip through her fingers. “It’s getting long.”

“Tch,” Sasuke says. “Whatever. Are you ready to go?”

Hinata swallows. She looks back in the direction she came, where she left the body beneath the blazing sun. Her throat feels tight again. _Forgive me…_

Sasuke’s eyes soften slightly, warmth peeking through his reserved mask. He reaches out, his fingers lightly circling her wrist. “Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s get going.”

Hinata pushes her feelings down and nods, forcing a smile. They both turn toward the village, Hinata falling into step next to him. Sasuke doesn’t let go of her wrist as they walk, instead keeping it there. Hinata moves close to him, their shoulders brushing.

“It’s so _hot_ ,” she says, wiping at the sweat on her chin. “I wish I thought to bring some water with me.”

Sasuke reaches down, pulling something from his belt. He holds it out to her. “Here.”

It’s a cannister of water. Hinata’s eyes lock on it like it’s a rare gem, and she snatches it eagerly from his hand.

“I could kiss you,” she says.

Sasuke’s nose wrinkles. “Please don’t,” he says, and she laughs.

There’s still a heaviness to her heart—she just killed a man in cold blood, how can there not be?—but as usual, she finds Sasuke’s presence to be a balm. He’s not healing or soothing, but he’s there, _solid_ , and he slits right into place at her side, right where he’s meant to be.

Her best friend. The only person she has, and the only person she can ever remember having.

She turns to look at him. At this angle, she can just barely glimpse the scar on his neck—a faint, thin line, only noticeable to those who knew it was there. Hinata recalls the memory of blood, of a sharp blade, and shudders.

She moves her hand, making him release her wrist, and she interlaces their fingers instead. There’s nothing romantic in the gesture—it’s something they’ve done since they were two scared kids, curled up and trembling and wishing for their parents.

(Hinata doesn’t remember her parents any longer. But she still remembers how it felt to miss them.)

They pass several street markets as they walk. One of them is selling dango, and her eyes linger on it for a second longer than the others, which Sasuke notices. He stops them.

“Do you want one?” he asks. “You haven’t eaten for a while.”

Hinata shakes her head. “Someone could recognize us. We’re too close to the Land of Fire. We shouldn’t linger.”

“It’ll be fine. It’ll only take a second.”

Despite her worry, Hinata can’t help but smile as Sasuke breaks away from her. Sasuke is usually extremely paranoid about being recognized—and being in a nation not far from Fire Country is usually enough to make him extremely tense and anxious. Yet still, he’s willing to linger just to make sure that she eats.

Hinata knows he wouldn’t be so considerate to anyone else. To most people—to nearly _all_ people—Sasuke Uchiha is not kind. She’s honored to be the exception.

She takes the stick of dango from him with a thank you and a smile. She doesn’t offer any to him—she knows how much he dislikes sweets.

She eats her treat as they walk, passing by civilians and street vendors. It will take them a while to get back to Kumo. Hinata feels a curling of dread in her chest as she thinks about it, and she realizes that as much as she wants out of this heat, she doesn’t want to return home yet. She wants to stay like this, with Sasuke’s hand in hers, without a mission to follow.

She doesn’t want to go back and receive their next kill order. She wants to stay here, in this very moment. She wants it to stretch forever.

But it can’t. And it won’t.

Eventually, every bird must return to its cage.

* * *

Itachi returns from his mission without a scratch to show for it. With his hair tied back and not a strand out of place, his flak jacket completely undirtied, one would never guess he just got back from busting an illegal trafficking ring in the Land of Earth.

Itachi passes through the village gates, and there’s no rush in his step as he makes his way to Hokage Tower. Despite his mission ending successfully, there is no sense of accomplishment to him. His real reason for going there turned out to be a waste.

Another false lead that went nowhere. Another dead end.

He reaches the office in no time at all, his mind still preoccupied. The ANBU guards step aside when he steps up to the door, and he raises a hand to knock.

“Enter,” a voice calls.

Itachi opens the door and steps into the room, closing it with a click behind him. Tsunade is at her desk, and she looks up when he enters, setting down her pen.

“Itachi,” she says. “You’re back sooner than I thought you’d be.”

“The trafficking ring wasn’t as large as we thought it would be,” he tells her, handing over his mission report. “It was easy to shut down once I gained a way inside.”

Tsunade nods, scanning over the report in her hands. As she does, Itachi continues, “Actually, the leader of the group confessed that this ring was only one cell connected to an even larger operation. It seems that they’re split up across several countries.”

The Godaime frowns, her eyebrows furrowing. “That’s not good news. Were you able to find out where these other cells are located?”

“I was,” he responds. “Since this was my mission, I should be the one to make sure it’s completely shut down. The closest one to us is in Kisaragi Village. I can go after that one first, and then after that there’s a base in—”

Tsunade sighs. She holds up a hand. “Itachi, _stop_.”

Obediently, Itachi falls silent. Tsunade sets his report down in front of her. She laces her fingers together, leaning forward to meet his eyes.

“We both know why you went on this mission,” she says. “And we both know why you want to keep chasing the rest of these trafficking rings. It has nothing to do with your personal sense of responsibility.”

The eighteen-year-old tenses. “I don’t know what you—”

“Don’t treat me like a fool,” she snaps. “I know you thought your brother might be there. I know that’s why you took the assignment.”

Itachi doesn’t respond, which is as good as a confirmation. She’s correct—Itachi chose this particular assignment for a reason, and it isn’t simply because human trafficking rings disgust him.

This particular human trafficking ring traded in something special. It traded in Kekkai Genkai. The leader of the operation collected children that possessed special bloodline traits, and then for a certain price, he sold them off. Konoha was tasked by the daimyō with shutting it down.

Itachi wouldn’t have paid the mission request any mind, except that it claimed one of the children possessed a _Sharingan_. And that they were around twelve—just about the age that Sasuke would be now.

So, Itachi took the mission. Of course he did. But of all the children he set free when he shut down the ring, a boy with a Sharingan was not among them.

It’s been ten years since the night his brother was stolen from them—since Itachi _let him_ be stolen. And in that time, every action he’s taken, every decision he’s made, has been in an effort to find his brother. Every mission assignment he takes is picked with Sasuke in mind. Whether he’s following a half-baked lead, or because the mission will take him to Kumogakure.

The conflict between the Leaf and the Cloud officially ended four years ago. Six years, the war between the two nations raged on. From ages eight to thirteen, Itachi spent his life on a battlefield, fighting against Konoha’s enemies. However, this changed when the Third Hokage was killed under suspicious circumstances.

Tsunade took the seat of the Fifth Hokage, and the first thing she did was put an end to the conflict. The Hyuuga and the Uchiha were not happy with this—Kumogakure took their children away from them, they held no wish to make peace—however, even they were weary of the fighting. An agreement was reached.

Itachi, already a chuunin, began devoting everything to finding his little brother. His father was furious when he refused to join ANBU. He was furious again when he refused to join the Police Force. But Itachi knew his best chance to find Sasuke laid as a jounin.

Now, Tsunade looks at him gently. The pity in her eyes makes him burn.

“You have to stop this,” she says. “I know you miss your brother. I know you want to find him. But it’s been ten years. You need to consider the fact that he might never come back. That maybe he’s gone.”

Itachi clenches his jaw. “Gone,” he repeats through gritted teeth. “ _Dead_ , you mean.”

It isn’t the first time he’s been told this. It isn’t even the second, or the third, or the twentieth. The two children have been missing for so long now, and it scares Itachi to watch people slowly lose hope.

What scares him even more is that he’s starting to forget his little brother’s face.

Tsunade looks apologetic, but she doesn’t deny the words. Itachi feels his chest tighten.

“Sorry, Hokage-sama,” he says. “But no. I refuse to accept that.”

She looks at him and sighs. “Well, I can’t force you. But you aren’t continuing with this trafficking ring. I’ll send someone else after the other cells. You go home and get some rest.”

Itachi leaves the Hokage’s office in a bad mood. He needs to head to the Hyuuga compound to tell Hiashi that the lead didn’t pan out. He’s so preoccupied with his thoughts, he doesn’t even notice Neji until the Hyuuga calls out to him.

“Itachi,” he says. “Hey. How are you doing?”

Itachi turns his head as the younger boy falls into step beside him. “Alright. I was just dropping off my report.”

Neji watches him closely with unnatural white eyes. “You look annoyed. Tsunade-sama gave you the ‘forget about your brother’ speech again, didn’t she?”

Itachi doesn’t say anything, just continues walking. Neji is wearing the same flak jacket as he is, but he still sits a rank below Itachi, at chuunin. His hair falls down his back, longer than even Itachi’s, and his hitai-ate sits on his forehead, covering his seal.

There’s no judgement in his voice as he speaks of Tsunade’s words. Unlike most people, Neji does not pity him for his refusal to consider his brother is dead. He feels the same for Hinata, and has always seems to respect Itachi for his continued search.

 _I admire you for having so much faith,_ he told Itachi once, a few years back. _I confess, at times I can feel mine waver._

Itachi knows that Neji’s belief that the two children are alive hasn’t stayed as strong as his has. The younger boy has suffered several blows in the last few years, the sudden death of his father being the heaviest. Neji holds resentment toward the Head Family for the cursed seal on his forehead, and sometimes, these feelings have affected his vow to find Hinata.

Itachi wonders if the day will come when Neji will tell him the same as the others. Will tell him to let go. Will tell him to _give up_.

“I heard you were taking down a trafficking ring,” the Hyuuga says. “How did that go?”

“It went fine,” Itachi tells him. “The mission was only A-Rank.”

Neji scoffs at him, rolling his eyes. “ _Only_ A-Rank. You know, most shinobi would consider that to be difficult.”

He flashes a slight smirk. “I’m not most shinobi.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. You make the rest of us look bad, you know that, right?”

Itachi ducks his head, his bangs falling into his eyes slightly. He finds that his mood has lightened slightly. “I apologize. I’ll attempt to be poorer at things in the future.”

Neji hums lightly, clearly not believing him. “Where’s Shisui-san?” he asks. “I haven’t seen him around for a while.”

Itachi doesn’t roll his eyes at his best friend’s name, but it’s a very near thing. “That idiot got himself a triple shift of Lookout Duty for the rest of the month.”

Neji makes a face. Lookout Duty refers to the job of being stationed in one of the lookout towers, watching out for anything suspicious around Konoha’s borders. It’s one of the most menial, dull jobs that a shinobi can have, and everyone hates it.

“What did he do?” Neji asks.

“You don’t want to know. Trust me.”

Knowing what Shisui can be like, Neji takes him at his word. They walk for a few more moments before they split off, and Itachi grabs him by the arm before he goes.

“Do you know if your uncle is at home right now? I needed to speak to him about something.”

Neji’s lip curls slightly. Itachi knows he and Hiashi don’t have the best relationship.

“I’m not sure,” he says. “He and I don’t talk much. Or at all. Why? What do you need him for?”

Itachi shakes his head. “Nothing, really. Just clan matters.”

Neji accepts the answer. As the son of the Clan Head, Itachi often has certain duties delegated to him by his father. He bids Itachi farewell and slips in the direction of the training grounds.

Itachi finds himself alone once again, and his feet now carry him in the direction of the Hyuuga compound. His words to Neji weren’t a lie, and the younger boy doesn’t need to know the specifics.

Itachi remembers when he was thirteen, when relations between the Uchiha Clan and the village began to become strained. His father never spoke to him of it, but he was still able to see the tensions that were rising. Things got so bad, Itachi worried there might even be a coup. That the Uchiha would make a grab for power.

Fortunately, Fugaku managed to calm the masses. _The fighting is over_ , he implored them. _Do not start it up again._ Weary of battle, of spilling blood, they reluctantly agreed. Itachi held his breath as insurrection was averted.

Five years later, Itachi is worried again. Once more, discontent is rising within the Clan—and this time, his father doesn’t seem inclined to stop it.

He’s too angry this time. Too angry at the village that oppressed them. The village that denied them their rightful positions. The village that trapped them in a box.

The village that killed his youngest son.

Itachi hates when his father speaks this way—hates that he has given up, too. He hates the way his father never speaks his youngest son’s name, not unless it’s to bring up the grievances he has against the village.

He hates the way his mother has drawn in on herself. The way she hardly smiles anymore, and when she does, the expression is painted on. There’s a shadow in her eyes, living in her heart. She’s given up, as well. Having hope hurts too much.

But Itachi refuses to do the same as everyone else. There’s no proof that Sasuke is dead. And Itachi won’t believe he is until he sees his body in front of him.

* * *

“Stand up, Hanabi.”

His youngest daughter looks up at him from the wooden floor, her long hair dragging on the ground. She clenches the kunai in her hand. With a determined expression, she pushes herself back to her feet.

Hiashi meets her easily, as the two of them trade blows. Hiashi’s moves are simple, easy, as he spars with the six-year-old child. Hanabi’s reflexes are impressive for her age, and she has mastered their clan’s technique wonderfully.

She lashes out with her palm, quickly and efficiently. He dodges all of her hits, and in return, she avoids his. Hiashi feels pride swell within him, and he speeds up his strikes slightly. Hanabi matches him.

He wonders, sometimes, if Hinata would have been as skilled as her sister. A sharp pain makes itself known in his heart.

Their sparring goes on for a few more minutes. Hiashi can see Hanabi begin to tire. He begins to graze her with his palms, as her reflexes begin to slow. Finally, he lands a hit. She falls back to the mat.

Behind him, somebody claps. Hiashi turns around.

Itachi Uchiha is standing by the door in his uniform, watching them. He must have just returned from his mission. He bows his head.

“Forgive me, Hyuuga-san,” he says. “I didn’t mean to intrude. Your wife let me in.”

Hiashi shakes his head. “You’re fine.”

Hanabi lights up the moment she sees Itachi in the doorway. “Itachi-niisan! Did you see me sparring just now?”

Itachi bends down and gives the girl a smile. “That was very impressive, Hanabi-chan. You’ll be a shinobi in no time.”

“You really think so?”

“Definitely.”

Hanabi grins, bouncing on the balls of her feet. As if he wasn’t standing right there when it was said, she turns to Hiashi and says to him, “Father, did you hear what Itachi-niisan said? He said I’ll be a shinobi in _no time_!”

Hiashi smiles faintly, a hand settling on his daughter’s head. “I heard. Why don’t you go see if your mother needs help with dinner?”

Hanabi agrees happily. She hugs Itachi around the legs before she leaves the room, and he gives her a pat on the head.

He fits the mold of an older brother so easily, so naturally. Hiashi sees the ache in his eyes whenever his daughter calls him by the honorary title of _nii-san_ , and he knows the boy is imagining someone else in Hanabi’s place.

(Sometimes, Hiashi sees someone else when he looks at her, too.)

Hiashi gestures for Itachi to follow him. “Come,” he says. “I will make us some tea, and we can sit down.”

This is not the first time Itachi Uchiha has come to visit his family. In the past decade, he has been a regular visitor to the compound, as well as his parents. Their families have become very close.

In the past, the Hyuuga and the Uchiha maintained a strained relationship. Their clans’ abilities are so similar in nature, and they are equal in strength, so it is only natural that they should consider each other rivals. There was never any real animosity between them, but their own pride kept either of them from resolving old feuds.

This changed when their children were stolen from their beds in the middle of the night. Suddenly, they could understand each other’s pain perfectly—the pain of having their child ripped away from them. Hiashi now considers Fugaku to be a close confidant. Likewise, his wife has formed a close relationship with Mikoto. Without the woman’s companionship, Hiashi fears Misaki might have fallen into despair.

Itachi and Neji have also formed a friendship—united in their vow to bring the two children back home. Hiashi is glad his nephew has someone, because it has been so long since the boy has talked to him. Not since Hizashi’s death.

Hiashi settles down at the table, handing a cup of tea to Itachi. He tries not to seem too eager as he asks, “How did it go? Was there anything there?”

Itachi bows his head, his hair falling into his eyes. “No,” he tells him. “It was another false lead.”

Hiashi feels his disappointment like a stone sinking in his stomach. He attempts to keep it from his face. “It was a longshot, anyway.”

“They’re all longshots. That doesn’t mean we should give up.”

Hiashi looks over at Itachi. “I never said that,” he says. “Nor will you ever hear me say it.”

As far as Hiashi is concerned, giving up on Hinata is not an option. While memory may fade for others, Hiashi remembers his daughter’s face as clearly today as he did a decade ago. Whether it has been ten years, or twenty, or thirty, he will continue to search.

“I will not give up on my daughter,” he says firmly. “Or on your brother. They are out there somewhere. And one day, we shall bring them both home.”

Itachi stares into his cup of tea, his eyes troubled. “You should tell that to my father. He seems determined to forget Sasuke ever existed.”

Hiashi presses his lips together. “Do not be too hard on him. He deals in his own way.”

Itachi is silent across from him. His mind appears preoccupied, and Hiashi realizes that he did not come here simply to inform Hiashi that his mission turned up nothing. He came here for another reason.

“My father is actually what I wanted to speak to you about,” he says. “There have been some matters in my clan that have… concerned me lately.”

Hiashi nods and waits patiently for him to speak. Normally, it would feel strange speaking of clan matters with a teenager. However, speaking with Itachi is much the same as speaking with his father. At only eighteen, the boy holds a mature outlook on the world that often rivals shinobi twice his age.

Itachi takes a careful drink of his tea before speaking. “You are aware of the suspicions the Uchiha face from the village, yes?”

Hiashi’s lips become a thin line. “The Kyuubi attack.”

It has been over twelve years since the beast attacked the village, and still, the Uchiha Clan is suspected in having a hand in it. Hiashi cannot scorn people for feeling that way—he once had the same opinion on the matter.

He is not blind. He has seen how, through the years, mistrust for the Uchiha seems to have grown instead of faded. He knows Fugaku is often troubled over this, and harbors resentment. He blames Konoha’s leaders for ostracizing his clan—and for not protecting his son.

“The Uchiha are growing discontent with the discrimination levelled on them,” Itachi admits. “They grow restless. They push to take action against the village. This isn’t the first time this has happened, but my father quelled them last time. This time, I don’t think he will.”

Hiashi takes a drink of tea, examining the boy with serious eyes. “Itachi,” he says carefully, solemnly, “are you telling me that your clan is planning a coup?”

“I don’t think they are yet. If any real plans were already being made, my father would have definitely approached me. But with the way things are… I fear that’s the way things are heading.”

Hiashi drums his fingers on the table, extremely troubled by this information. An uprising by a clan as powerful as the Uchiha will shake the foundations of the Land of Fire. There will be civil war—and possibly even bigger than that.

“If what you’re saying is true,” he says, “then this is indeed grave news. What do you plan to do about it?”

“That’s why I’m here. I was hoping you could speak to my father—dissuade him of his plans.”

Hiashi frowns. “I’m happy to help in anyway I can, but I confess, I don’t see what I could say that might convince him. You are his son—would it not be better for you to speak to him?”

Itachi shakes his head, his lips thin. “He… will not listen to me. He still blames me for… for what happened.”

Hiashi’s eyebrows pull together. “Itachi, I am sure that’s not true. You were eight when Sasuke was taken. Fugaku would never blame you for something like that.”

“He’d never _say_ he blames me. But ever since the night Sasuke got taken… ever since then, he’s looked at me differently.”

Hiashi wants to refute this, but he knows that he can’t. He blames himself for the night Hinata was taken, after all. It makes since that Fugaku might blame Itachi, even if it is only subconsciously.

“ _Please_ ,” Itachi implores. “You’re his friend. He values your opinion. If you speak to him, he’ll listen to you.”

Hiashi looks at him doubtfully. He sighs, taking another sip of his tea.

“Very well,” he says. “If you believe it could help, I will try.”

* * *

That night, back in their small room in Kumogakure, Hinata curls up in her bed and dreams. Her body shakes, clutching to her blanket.

She dreams of white eyes, identical to hers. She dreams of bloody fingers cupping her cheek, a dying voice rasping, _“Hinata-sama—”_

She wakes up in her bed, gasping and shaking. There are tears on her cheeks and stinging at her eyes.

She sits up. The room is dark, absent of any personal belongs. Her heart races in her chest, and she chokes on her gasps. The image sticks in her brain. _White eyes, bloody fingers…_

“Hinata.”

Hinata turns her head. Sasuke is in his own bed, and he frowns when he sees the state of her. He pulls back the sheets of his own bed, holding them up.

Hinata hesitates only a moment before getting up. She slides into his bed next to him, pressing herself tightly against his side.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

Hinata swallows, a lump in her throat. She shakes her head. She can see the scar on his neck, and her heart feels heavy at the reminder of it. With gentle fingers, she reaches out to lightly trace it.

Hinata remembers that day so clearly—it’s the closest to death she’s ever seen him. Blood on her hands and his eyelashes fluttering, her screaming at him to stay awake—

( _Sasuke! Sasuke, stay with me—_ )

God, he nearly _died_ —

Sasuke raises his hand. With two of his fingers, he pokes her in the center of her forehead, startling her from her thoughts.

“Stop that,” he tells her. “I’m right here.”

Hinata reaches up, rubbing at the spot he just poked. “Why do you do that?” she asks. “Poke my forehead like that?”

As usual when she asks a question he doesn’t like, Sasuke’s expression closes off.

“Go to sleep, Hinata,” he says.

She falls asleep to the beat of Sasuke’s heart beneath her ear, and she wonders if Sasuke dreams, too. She wonders if he dreams of Konoha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obviously, you know from the summary that hinata and sasuke are going to be found. it's not going to take too long, but i do want to take a few chapters to explore the current setting first (how the two of them have been living, how things in konoha are different from canon).
> 
> Obviously, since theyve had different experiences, the characters might have slightly different personalities than in canon. Sasuke's still rather closed-off and cold with most people, and Hinata's still pretty quiet and anxious. But they're different with each other, of course, since theyve been with only each other to rely on since they were three, so this creates a strong bond between them (not romantic at all!!).
> 
> Sasuke and Hinata's home at Cloud wasn't shown much. But it will be next chapter, and some familiar characters from Kumo will show up.


	3. sending a signal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while since i updated this, sorry! right now i'm mainly focusing on two of my other stories, but one of them is nearly finished, so I hope to update my other stories faster once it is. Thank all of you for the amazing response to this story!

Sasuke dodges the kunai aimed at his throat. The weapon switches hands, and he avoids the next strike as well, ducking and letting it pass over his head.

Hinata doesn’t pause, kicking up with her foot. Sasuke steps away, dancing out of the blow’s path. He jumps as she attempts to sweep him with her other leg, leaning away from an incoming fist.

Tension skyrockets, an electric current in the air. Their feet dance across the dojo floor in a familiar dance. Hinata’s moves are a flurry of missed hits, knees and feet and kunai that never reach their target, as Sasuke maneuvers to safety each time.

“That’s all you’re going to do?” Hinata asks, as he continues to dodge her attacks without attempting any of his own. “Just run away?”

“It’s not my fault you can’t land a hit.”

As he predicted, Hinata’s face tightens at the mockery, her focus sharpening. The speed of her strikes increases, as well as the power behind them, as she forces Sasuke off of the defensive. Her knuckles graze the skin of his cheek.

She gives him no room to breathe, and he is forced to engage. He grabs her wrist as she strikes out with the kunai, and when she throws the weapon to her other hand, he brings up his knee and knocks it from her fingers.

The kunai clatters to the floor. Sasuke is forced to throw himself into a backflip to escape a series of kicks, dropping under a leg that hooks him around the middle.

He’s tempted to activate his Sharingan to follow her blurry movements, but he forces himself to keep it turned off. _Normal taijutsu only,_ he reminds himself. _No chakra._

Sasuke lashes out the moment he spots the slightest opening, swiping the kunai from the floor as he twists under her leg, pivoting behind her. He grabs Hinata’s wrists in a vice-like grip, forcing her elbows to fold and pulling her against his chest. Desperately, she drives a foot backward.

Sasuke kicks her legs, forcing her knees to buckle. He twists the kunai in his hand, aiming the point up and slicing—

“ _Enough_.”

Both of them instantly stop. Sasuke is holding the blade half an inch from Hinata’s throat, but she doesn’t flinch. She knows it would have never actually touched her neck.

Sasuke straightens, sweat painting the back of his neck. Hinata pushes back up from her knees, small strands of hair sticking to her forehead. They both turn toward the voice.

Samui is observing their spar from the other side of the dojo. She pushes off the wall, a cool expression on her face. Her blonde hair brushes her shoulders as she walks over to them.

“I counted at least seven different openings,” she says. “Hinata, you’re leaving your left flank open. You’re overcompensating with your right side, which leaves all of your attacks unbalanced. Sasuke, you’re reacting too much. You have to _anticipate_. Don’t just fight in the moment, fight five moments ahead.”

Sasuke feels a spark of irritation at the words, but he accepts the criticism without complaint. He holds Hinata’s kunai out toward her.

“She’s right, you know. You aren’t covering your left side properly.”

Hinata smiles as she takes back the weapon. “That’s why I have you next to me,” she says. “To cover it for me.”

Sasuke frowns. “You can’t rely on that. I might not always be there.”

Her forehead creases, her mouth opening to reply. But Samui also disagrees with her words, cutting her off in a tone sharp with disapproval.

“Sasuke is right. Have you learned nothing in the last ten years? Never rely on anyone else to compensate for your weaknesses. Fix them yourself.”

The words aren’t said too harshly, but Hinata has always been more sensitive than he is. She bows her head at the reproach. “You’re right. Sorry, Senpai.”

Samui has been their taijutsu instructor for as long as Sasuke can remember. They were given other instructors later, in other areas of skill, but Samui’s been around long enough that he doesn’t even remember when he met her. He’s always known her, in the same way he’s always known Hinata.

She taught him how to wield four different types of swords with perfect precision. How to kill fifteen different ways with his bare hands. When he was younger, he addressed her as _senpai_ , in the same way Hinata does.

In recent years, he’s fallen out of the habit.

She glances at him briefly, and Sasuke hides the tension that he holds in his muscles. It’s been there since yesterday, since the mission in Suna, and he feels like her eyes can see straight through him. That she can tell what he did just by looking at him.

 _Never let anyone see your eyes._ It’s one of their most crucial rules, and yesterday, he _broke_ it.

That single, blood-red eye flashes in his memory. His heart stutters. He hadn’t meant to let the man escape, but he’d just been so _startled_ —

“That’s enough for today,” Samui says. “Clearly, the two of you aren’t going to be making any improvements.”

Hinata sags at the words. Sasuke scowls.

“We still have two more hours of training,” he points out.

“Well, I’m releasing you early.”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow at the answer. “Considerate of you.”

“Not really. I’m just tired of babysitting the two of you.”

Irritation hits him at the answer. She’s always treating them like kids, as if they haven’t grown at all in the past decade, and it never ceases to be annoying. She isn’t _that_ much older than them. Only… okay, thirteen years, so she’s actually twice their age, but _still_.

He’s killed just as many people as she has. Maybe more.

“Keep practicing,” Samui tells them, with the same blank look as usual. Sasuke can count on one hand the amount of times he’s seen her expression actually shift. “Raikage-sama will expect to see an improvement by next week.”

Sasuke feels a surge of bitterness in his chest. He doesn’t show it on his face, turning away from her. He hears her sandals against the dojo floor as she leaves the room.

“Have a good day, Senpai,” Hinata says. She gets no response.

Sasuke scowls. Once Samui is gone, he turns to look at Hinata. “I don’t get why you’re always so nice. You know she isn’t our friend, right? She’s just like everyone else.”

A flicker of sadness passes over her face. “Maybe,” she says. “But I like to believe that she cares about us.”

Sasuke doesn’t share her view. He’s too molded by the life he’s led. When he closes his eyes, sometimes he thinks he can remember what the world looked like when it was still bright, but the colors always slip from his grasping fingers. He can never hold onto them.

They’re always washed away beneath the terror of a single blood-red eye.

Sasuke remembers the man again—the one he failed to kill. A shiver goes through him. _Was he...?_

Sasuke walks over to the other side of the dojo, sliding down the wall. Hinata joins him, sinking down next to him. Her chin-length hair is sticking to the underside of her jaw, her face still slightly flushed from their spar. She’s wearing a simple black tank top and shorts, and bruises are already starting to form on her exposed skin.

Sasuke doesn’t apologize. They’ve sparred against each other dozens of times, and both of them always come out of it battered. Sasuke bested her this time, but there have been several different times where the result was the opposite.

“Do you think we’ll have another mission soon?” Hinata asks him. “Raikage-sama didn’t say much after the last one. Usually he gives us some idea as to when we’ll be sent out again.”

Sasuke moves his hair off the back of his neck, so the ponytail drapes over his shoulder instead. He feels a tightening in his chest at her words, as he’s reminded of the events of yesterday. _That man—_

He forces away his anxiety at the memory. “Isn’t there meant to be a delegation coming from Konoha soon? I think he wants us to lay low while they’re here.”

Hinata is silent next to him. Sasuke turns to look at her, observing her troubled expression. Her mouth is pinched, her pale eyes clouded and distant.

“Do you ever think about it?” she asks quietly. “What our lives were like there? What they took us from?”

Sasuke thinks of the faint feeling of warmth that sometimes brushes against his memory. His chest aches, though he doesn’t know what for.

“Sometimes,” he admits.

But the memory of a single red eye overrides that dull longing, changing it into a sharp fear. The cold chases the warmth away completely, and Sasuke knows he will never return to that place. If it means keeping Hinata safe, he’ll remain Kumo’s tool for the rest of his life.

A worried frown creases Hinata’s forehead. “Sasuke, what is it?” she asks. “Something’s been bothering you since yesterday. You’ve been anxious about something.”

Sasuke feels the tension return to his muscles. He should’ve known better than to think he could hide it from her. He can’t conceal any of his feelings from her eyes, just as she can’t conceal hers from him. They have always been exposed to each other—they have to be.

Hinata looks at him with a sadness in her gaze. She reaches over to take his hand.

“You know I hate it when you shut me out. Please just tell me what’s wrong. Did something happen on the mission?”

Sasuke stiffens. He can’t tell her about the shinobi from yesterday—the one who recognized him. He doesn’t want Hinata involved—he doesn’t want her to pay for his mistake.

Sasuke still remembers the last time he was stupid enough to break a rule—when they placed a knife in his hand and he couldn’t follow through. He remembers standing straight in the center of the room, prepared to take his punishment.

He remembers the ice-cold fear that exploded in his chest when the Raikage went for Hinata instead.

( _No! No, it was my mistake, not hers! Leave her alone—_ )

Sasuke swallows past the emotion the memory brings.

He knows that she hates it when he does this. She’s told him multiple times that it isn’t his job to protect her—the both of them are supposed to protect each other. But he sees the way her eyes still fracture whenever she takes a life, how each kill chips off a piece of her soul. Their lives are written in darkness and blood, and she has always been too gentle, too kind.

Sasuke cannot save her from this life. But if he can shield her from even a fraction of it, then he will.

Hinata looks at him quietly, studying his expression. An exhale escapes her lips, and she leans back against the wall. She tilts her head so that it’s resting on his shoulder.

“Okay,” she says softly. “You can tell me when you’re ready.”

Sasuke blinks away a sudden pressure behind his eyes. He tilts his head so it rests against hers.

“Thank you,” he says.

His fingers are interlaced with Hinata’s on his leg, and he stares down at their hands, pale skin against pale skin. Something _hurts_ in his chest, and he closes his eyes.

Both of their hands are soaked with blood. It doesn’t matter how clean their skin looks, Sasuke can never forget that it’s there.

He remembers the blood that stained his hands yesterday, the shinobi he held at the mercy of his blade. And yet, as he brought his sword down to deliver the fatal blow, he _froze_.

He froze because he made the mistake of looking into the man’s face. He made the mistake of meeting his gaze.

One eye a deep brown—and the other a blazing _red_.

* * *

“You’re _positive_ it was him? It couldn’t have been _anyone else_?”

Kakashi is positioned in Shisui’s blind-spot. The only way for Shisui to see him would be to turn, but proper decorum dictates he keep his head bowed.

“It was him,” Kakashi says. “He was the correct age. And he reacted to the name when I said it.”

The two of them are kneeling on the floor of the Hokage’s office. They came straight here after returning from Sunagakure, still dressed in their ANBU gear. Their masks have been clipped to their waist.

Shisui feels something wind tightly inside of him as he listens to the words. It still hasn’t completely sunk in.

_Sasuke Uchiha is alive._

Tsunade drums her fingers on the edge of her desk, her mouth tight. Her gaze shifts to Shisui. “And you can collaborate this?”

Shisui’s empty eye socket twinges as he lifts his head. He resists the urge to bring his hand up to his eyepatch.

“I wasn’t as close, so I couldn’t see everything. But he did have a Sharingan. So unless there’s another missing Uchiha child…”

Her lips tighten even further. She knows as well as he does that while there have been a couple children to go missing, none of them would be Sasuke’s age.

“He was from Kumo,” Kakashi says. “He wasn’t wearing a village headband, but the attire he was wearing was just like theirs.”

Just another point in favor of the boy being Sasuke—the two children were taken by Kumogakure, after all. Though Shisui supposes he’s supposed to use the word ‘ _allegedly,_ ’ since it was never actually proven.

But Itachi swears it was a Cloud shinobi that night. And Kumo’s always employed dishonorable tactics to amass power.

Truthfully, Shisui had long since given up hope that his best friend’s little brother was alive. It isn’t something he ever told Itachi, but he had been sure that the kid was dead. It had been _ten years_ , after all. Ten years with no sign.

Until now.

Shisui still can’t wrap his mind around exactly what happened. Kakashi and Shisui’s ANBU squads were both deployed to intercept a meeting in Suna. Kakashi’s squad had been the one to steal the scroll, while Shisui’s stayed hidden in the trees as back-up.

Kumo had been there, as expected—but the shinobi had been a _kid_.

It was nothing unusual. Shisui himself had been on the battlefield when he was even younger. But this kid fought with deadly precision. He was a trained operative, skilled enough that he nearly took out _Sharingan no Kakashi_.

Shisui hadn’t able to see it that well from his vantage point, but he’d still seen the fully-developed Sharingan blazing in the child’s eyes. And the way he had frozen when he’d seen Kakashi’s.

_“Sasuke Uchiha?”_

The boy looked like he saw a ghost when Kakashi said that name.

“He was highly skilled,” Kakashi continues. “He didn’t use any jutsu, but his taijutsu was better than most adult shinobi. He kept up with me easily. I recognized a variety of fighting styles in his moves.”

“And Kumo?” Tsunade asks. “Was theirs one of the fighting styles he used?”

“I couldn’t say. I’m not very familiar with their way of fighting.”

Tsunade looks away from them, toward the window. Her forehead is creased in a frown.

“And to think,” she says with a huff, “that just a day ago I told Itachi he should stop looking.”

Shisui’s attention sharpens at his best friend’s name. He hopes that this won’t turn out to be something it’s not—that the boy they saw is actually the missing child from a decade ago.

 _If it isn’t Sasuke,_ Shisui thinks, his mouth pinching, _then Itachi will be crushed._

“If this boy you saw is really Sasuke Uchiha, then it’s possible he could lead us to the Hyuuga child as well.” Tsunade looks down at them. “There’s a delegation going to Kumo in a few days to discuss the relations between our two nations. I would like the two of you to go along as well to make inquiries.”

Shisui nods obediently. He can’t see Kakashi’s expression, but he knows the older man is probably hiding his distaste. He hates missions involving diplomacy. He’d much rather be given a target to aim his Chidori at.

“The two of you are dismissed. The delegation departs three days from now at noon.”

Shisui stands with Kakashi, his knees aching from the hard wood floor. _Godaime-sama should invest in some carpeting,_ he thinks, as he turns toward the door.

“And Shisui?”

Shisui stops at the call, turning back. “Yes, Hokage-sama?

“Don’t tell Itachi.”

* * *

Itachi has never been a fan of free time. It leaves him with nothing to do and with too much time to think.

 _Obsess,_ Shisui often corrects him. _You don’t think about things, you obsess._

Home from his mission for less than a day, Itachi finds himself falling into his habit of obsessing. Normally, Shisui would be there to distract him from all of his worries, but a few inquiries revealed that he left on an assignment two days earlier. Which was a surprise, because Itachi was under the impression he’d been relegated to Lookout Duty.

Itachi sits in his room on the edge of his bed, twirling a kunai between his fingers. His eyes move to the picture frame on his bedside table—a three-year-old Sasuke, his arms swung around his older brother’s neck.

Itachi’s heart twinges. He reaches out and puts the picture frame face-down, so he no longer has to look at it.

He thinks about that night again. A lot of it has been blurred by time—as most memories of his little brother now are. But he remembers Sasuke’s terrified cry, and the sharp fear that pierced him. He remembers the flash of a Kumo headband in the moonlight.

He remembers his parents in the aftermath, his father full of rage and his mother full of despair. In the past ten years, they never really let go of those feelings. Instead, it became what defined them.

The metal of the kunai is cold against his palm. Suddenly, he can’t stand to be in this house for one more second. Not when the laughter that used to surround him has been replaced by a suffocating silence.

Itachi stands up and walks from his room. He doesn’t pause as he passes Sasuke’s door, already knowing what will be found inside. His little brother’s toys and clothes and sheets, covered in a thick layer of dust. Completely untouched since the night he was taken, preserved like some sick memorial.

Itachi still remembers the day Fugaku tried to clean it out. The way Mikoto _cried_ and _begged_ , reaching the point of hysteria.

 _But what will happen when he comes home,_ she pleaded. _What about when he comes home—he won’t have anywhere to sleep—Fugaku—_

He remembers the way she collapsed in the center of the room. He remembers standing frozen in the doorway, wanting to comfort her but unable to get his feet to move.

The fresh air hits him when he exits the house, clearing his head for a moment. But then he hears footsteps coming toward him, and he turns his head. The tension immediately returns to his shoulders.

“Itachi,” Fugaku greets him. “I didn’t know you were back from your mission.”

“I returned yesterday,” Itachi tells him, reflexively straightening his posture. “How is Mother? I haven’t seen her since I got back.”

“You know your mother. She likes to keep herself busy.”

Itachi nods. His mother’s method of coping for the past eight years has been to keep herself so busy that she doesn’t have anytime to feel her own grief. It isn’t exactly healthy, and Itachi worries about her constantly, but it’s better than the first two years, where she spent all her time confined to her bedroom.

“It’s good that you’re back,” Fugaku says. “There’s a clan meeting tonight, and I don’t want you to miss it.”

 _Another one?_ Itachi thinks, but holds his tongue. He inclines his head like the obedient heir he’s expected to be.

“Of course, Father.”

Fugaku doesn’t ask about Itachi’s mission, even though he knows he was following a lead on Sasuke. Itachi swallows down the spike of anger he feels at the casual disregard.

 _Do you care about him at all?_ Itachi wonders. _Or is his memory just something for you to tote out during clan meetings?_

He cares about him enough to blame Itachi, even ten years later. It’s the reason he’s looking at him the way he is now—as if Itachi is the singular reason for everything that he’s lost.

Itachi disagrees with his father in nearly everything. But he can’t disagree with him on this.

_If I had been stronger, faster. Then maybe he wouldn’t have—_

Itachi shoves the thought away. What-ifs won’t change what happened.

“The lead on Sasuke didn’t go anywhere,” he says. “In case you were wondering.”

Fugaku’s mouth tightens. “You should spend less of your time chasing false leads, and more of it prioritizing this clan. You’ll be taking my place as its head someday soon.”

“I know, Father. You don’t need to remind me.”

“Well, it seems like I do. Don’t forget your responsibilities to the Uchiha—”

“I’m not,” Itachi says, in a voice slightly sharper than he intended. “But I won’t forget mine to my brother, either.”

The _unlike you_ goes unsaid, as he physically bites it back. But Fugaku clearly hears it anyway, and Itachi spots the flicker of pain that crosses his face before it’s replaced by a stern anger.

“I have not forgotten Sasuke. There is not a day that goes by I don’t think of him. But I have an entire clan to think of, whose wellbeing I must prioritize above all else. As the future Clan Head, you must learn to do the same.”

Itachi’s jaw tightens. Frustration surges within him again—emotion that he’s trained himself to bite down.

His father places a heavy hand on his shoulder as he passes him to enter the house.

“You _will_ be at that meeting tonight, Itachi. No arguments.”

Fugaku disappears inside. Itachi feels the phantom weight of his hand even after he’s left, and he rolls his shoulder to try and get rid of it. He walks down the steps of the back porch, somehow managing to feel even worse than before.

Leave it to his father to worsen his mood even further.

Itachi walks over to the targets he has placed on a couple of the trees near the back of their properly. He keeps his frustration from his face, even as he stews over his father’s words. They aren’t anything new, but they still manage to upset him.

He knows his father misses Sasuke, too. He knows that the man has his own ways of dealing. But Itachi can’t stand the way he acts whenever Itachi brings his name up—as if _Itachi_ is the one in the wrong for having hope.

And all that rhetoric about him becoming head of the Clan soon—about learning to manage his priorities better—

_As the future Clan Head—_

Itachi’s teeth clench as he recalls the words. He channels his temper into throwing the kunai in his hand, watching it hit the center target with a hard _thck!_

“Someone is in a bad mood. You’re obsessing again, aren’t you?”

Itachi turns his head to the right, to see Shisui walking toward him. He blinks in surprise. “Shisui. I was told you were on a mission.”

“I was. Just got back. It was a rather quick one. How did yours go?”

“Fine. It was a dead end on the Sasuke front though.”

Something flashes through his best friend’s eye, but it’s quickly gone. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Itachi turns to look at him properly. He’s still wearing his ANBU uniform, the mask clipped at his hip. “You should be more discrete, you know. Aren’t ANBU operatives supposed to keep their identities secret?”

Shisui looks down at the mask as Itachi nods at it, then shrugs. “If they really wanted to keep our identities secret, then they wouldn’t brand us with such obvious tattoos.”

“Why were you off on a mission, anyway? I thought Tsunade-sama grounded you.”

Shisui makes an offended face. “She didn’t _ground me_! It’s _Lookout Duty_!”

“Same thing.”

“It is not—ugh, forget it.” Shisui shakes his head, waving his hand through the air. “You’re infuriating.”

Itachi feels his mouth curve up into an amused smile. _He’s_ the infuriating one?

“So why is she letting you off Lookout Duty for a mission?” he asks. “You’ve still got two weeks left. Did she give you time off for good behavior or something?”

Shisui doesn’t appreciate his mocking. “ _Itachi_.”

“You’re right,” Itachi amends. “You and good behavior? That would never happen. Forget I ever said anything—”

“ _Itachi_ ,” the older boy whines again, dragging the syllables of his name out. He shakes his head. “Why is it that you’re so polite to everyone else, but to me you’re a _total fucking brat_? They’re so not paying me enough to be your friend.”

“They’re paying you, huh? How much am I worth?”

“Five ryō per hour.”

“Five ryō? I’m that cheap?”

“ _Per hour_.”

Itachi laughs quietly. Shisui is grinning at him, his eye dancing, and Itachi realizes that sometime during their banter, the vestiges of his bad mood fled him. He can’t remember why he was even upset—which was probably Shisui’s intention, he realizes.

 _Sasuke,_ his mind helpfully reminds him. _You were upset about Sasuke._

Oh. Right.

Itachi forces his and his father’s conversation from his mind. “So seriously. Why did she give you a mission?”

Shisui shrugs. “I am an ANBU captain, you know. I guess she just needed someone qualified to lead a squad.” Shisui pauses, then says, “Actually, I have another mission in a few days. This one is going to take longer, so you probably won’t see me for a while.”

Itachi nods, but something in his friend’s voice makes him turn his head and look at him. “What’s the mission?”

“Classified,” Shisui says, flashing his smile again. “Sorry.”

Itachi accepts the answer with a nod, but inside he’s frowning. He doesn’t know why he finds the answer odd—all ANBU missions are classified—but something about it rubs him the wrong way.

He looks at Shisui, at the familiar smile on his face. The right side of his face is covered by a black eye patch—he lost the eye years ago, only a few years after Itachi met him. There’s nothing off about his expression.

“Do you want to train?” Shisui asks. “It might distract you from your obsessing.”

“I’m not _obsessing_ ,” Itachi denies, but he agrees to train with the older boy.

“Great,” Shisui says. “At the usual spot?”

Itachi nods. “Sure. Meet you there in five minutes.”

Shisui _shunshins_ away, leaving the scent of pine behind. Itachi moves to collect the kunai from the target, as he tries to figure out exactly what bothered him about the conversation.

* * *

Sasuke is attempting to change the form of his chakra when Samui enters the training room.

His eyes are closed, and he can feel the field of lightning from his _Raiton_ crackling around him. The current sparks against his skin, raising the hair on his arms. He focuses his chakra, channeling it into the lightning, attempting to sharpen it.

With his chakra focused to such a point, he senses the moment another chakra signature enters the room. His attention distracted, he allows the jutsu to deactivate. He opens his eyes, watching as the bright blue currents of lightning disappear.

“A simple _Raiton_? Isn’t that a bit low-level for you?”

Sasuke turns his head, scowling when he sees Samui. “I’m trying to turn the lightning black,” he admits, “to put more power behind it. But it’s not working.”

“Black? Like Raikage-sama’s technique?” Samui walks over to him, her expression unreadable. “That takes an absurd amount of chakra control. I don’t know if that’s something you have yet.”

Sasuke’s scowl deepens, as he’s forced to tilt his head up to meet her eyes. “I can _do_ it. I just need practice.”

Samui watches him for a moment. Slowly, she nods. “Alright. I believe you. You always accomplish everything you set your mind to. You’re stubborn like that.”

Sasuke feels himself bristle at the slight warmth in her usually cool tone.

“Don’t talk like you know me,” he snaps. “You _don’t_. We aren’t friends.”

Samui’s eyes don’t leave his. They’re a deep clear blue that remind Sasuke of the sky. Her hand is placed on her hip, her mouth pulling down into a frown.

“I never said we were,” she says. “But I’ve been teaching you how to fight for over eight years now. Since I was only a few years older than you are now. So like it or not, I _do_ know you. I know Hinata, too.”

Sasuke tenses. As far as he’s concerned, the only one who knows him is Hinata. They’re the only ones who know each other. Everyone else—they can be as kind and as friendly as they want, but it will never make Sasuke mistake them for being someone who they can trust.

“I don’t know why you always do this,” Samui says. “You act like you and Hinata are prisoners—”

“We are prisoners. Just because there aren’t any bars doesn’t make that any less true.”

“You _aren’t_ prisoners.”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow. “We can leave, then? Whenever we want?”

Samui winces slightly, breaking eye contact. Sasuke looks away from her, his mouth tightening.

“Exactly. That’s what I thought.”

Samui shakes her head. “And what? You’d rather go back to Konoha? Have you forgotten that they—”

Sasuke’s voice goes cold, cutting her off. “I haven’t forgotten.”

It’s the earliest memory he can recall, even if it’s a blur of colors and feelings. He remembers a calloused hand holding his. He remembers seeing a red eye, and believing, foolishly, that he was _safe,_ until—

Sasuke shudders at the memory. He forces it away.

He will never go back to Konoha. Not for as long as he lives.

Samui’s face softens just slightly. She takes a few steps forward, looking down at him, and places a hand on his shoulder. “This place is your home, Sasuke. The only one you have.”

Her hand is cold, brushing his skin just slightly where the collar of his shirt ends. He looks down at it, feeling a suffocating bitterness rise up in him. He knocks her hand off him, as he brushes past her toward the door.

“Hinata is my home,” Sasuke says. “This place is my cage.”


	4. that i'm here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on updating this story just yet... but then I glanced at it and realized it had been _over six months_ since I updated it... so I started on the next chapter right away. I knew when I started this story that it would be one of my slower updated ones, but half a year is still way too long. I'm sorry, guys!

Mikoto wraps her arms around herself, shivering in the evening air as she exits the building with her husband and the rest of their clan.

Itachi is not among them. He’s missed another meeting, and Fugaku is going to read him the riot act when they get home. Mikoto hopes she can convince him to wait until the morning—she just wants to wrap herself around him and go to sleep.

“This is the second meeting he’s missed this month,” Fugaku says, his jaw tightly clenched. “I warned him about skipping it. What is that boy _thinking_?”

“He just got back from a mission, dear. He was probably just tired.”

“That’s no excuse! I’ve had it up to _here_ with his rebelling!”

Mikoto winces. Though she knows her husband doesn’t mean to remind her of him, his words are the exact ones her father used to scream at her and her sister—and those conversations usually ended with bruises. She shoves the memory away.

“He’s not _rebelling_ , Fugaku. You know why he doesn’t like coming.”

The words spoken at the meeting this evening still ring hollowly in her ears. Thinking about them causes her chest to tighten, a familiar feeling of being unable to breathe properly.

 _Konoha has taken much from us,_ Fugaku said. _They killed my son—_

Itachi hates to go to the meetings and listen to Fugaku proclaim with such surety that his baby brother is dead. He hates to listen to Fugaku drag his name out each time, as a point in the argument as to why their village can’t be trusted.

After nearly a decade, Itachi refuses for even one moment to entertain the possibility that Sasuke is dead. Perhaps a large part of it is guilt—Mikoto knows he still blames himself for not being able to stop the man that took him that night.

And Mikoto—Mikoto doesn’t know how she feels. She’s been numb for so long where her youngest son is concerned. Just the memory of him—the barest mention of his name—threatens to break her to pieces.

She still remembers the moment she held him for the first time. Her baby is _gone_.

“Itachi has a duty to this clan,” Fugaku says, shaking his head. “He is my _heir_. How is he meant to lead them one day when he behaves like this? Blowing off his responsibilities, chasing pointless hopes—”

Mikoto’s chest tightens. “You don’t know if they’re pointless—”

Something breaks in Fugaku’s expression. “Sasuke is _dead_ , Mikoto!” he yells, a sharp anguish bleeding through to his eyes. “He is _gone_! If Itachi finds anything, the only thing it is going to be is a body!”

Mikoto flinches back, her eyes wide. Many of their clan members, still lingering near the shrine’s entrance, turn to stare at them.

Fugaku glances around them, then looks back at his wife. For a moment, a look of deep regret appears on his face, but then his emotions are once again hidden. He spins around, striding off into the night, into the direction of their house.

Mikoto is left standing alone. Tears spring into her eyes.

Her husband’s words cut her deep. She has heard them many times in the past decade, but they have never been screamed at her in such a way. She feels her chest tighten, and suddenly it’s hard for her to draw in breath. It feels like something is sitting on her chest.

Her hands are shaking. The night air is cold against her cheeks, and the rest of the world seems miles away. She clutches at her chest, and vaguely, she recognizes the fact that she’s panicking in the middle of the street, but she _can’t_ —

In her mind, she is holding a bundle of blankets in her arms. He is so light and small and _beautiful_ , and she smiles up at her husband—

( _Sasuke,_ she says to him. _His name is Sasuke._ )

There are hands on her shoulders. Mikoto becomes aware of a voice speaking to her, and she struggles to focus on it through her panic.

“…Breathe, Mikoto-san. One, two, three, _in_ … one, two, three, _out_ …”

The voice is familiar, and instinct has her listening to it. She follows the instructions, breathing slowly. Gradually, the face in front of her comes into focus. Young, early twenties, dark hair and a single eye—

“There you go,” Shisui says, smiling kindly. “You’re okay.”

Mikoto’s heart stops feeling like it’s being clenched in a fist. Awareness returns to her. Most members of the clan who attended the meeting are gone, but a few of them are still present, staring at her unabashedly.

Mikoto pulls in on herself, exceedingly embarrassed for the spectacle she’s made of herself. Shisui notices this, and he glares at everyone watching.

“Hey! What are all of you staring at?!”

They avert their eyes, now shuffling off. Shisui and Mikoto are now the only ones left in front of the Naka Shrine.

Shisui turns back to her, his hands dropping from her shoulders. “Such shameless gossips, am I right?”

Mikoto attempts a small smile, wiping the tears on her cheeks with her sleeve. “Thank you, Shisui. I apologize for my display.”

She feels shame burn through her. She knows the entire clan often whispers about how fragile she is—the Clan Head’s wife, brokenhearted over the disappearance of her second son. She has recovered since then, but nothing will ever erase the stain of those first two years—consumed by crippling depression, rarely ever leaving her bed.

She is a shinobi. She has fought in a war. She’s meant to be stronger than this.

Shisui shakes his head. “You have nothing to apologize for. Allow me to walk you home?”

It’s only a few blocks, but she accepts the offer. It’s been a while since she’s seen her son’s best friend around the house. Itachi has mentioned that ANBU is keeping him busy.

“You haven’t spoken to Itachi, have you?” she asks him as they walk. “He didn’t show up tonight, and I haven’t had a chance to speak to him since he returned from his mission yesterday.”

“I spoke to him this morning, actually. The mission went fine. He seemed slightly upset, though.”

Mikoto sighs. No doubt it was another dead end in regards to Sasuke. She would never tell her son to stop looking—but she hates how crushed he looks every time he comes home.

“I know I haven’t been there for him as much as I could have been…”

“He understands,” Shisui assures her. “He loves you.”

Mikoto blinks away tears. She knows the words are true—but she will always feel guilty for the time following Sasuke’s disappearance. Itachi was just a child, and she should have been there for him, but instead she was wrapped up in her own pain.

She is immensely grateful to Shisui, who was there to support him in her place.

“You’re a good friend to him,” she tells him. “He needs someone like you in his life. You’re such a bright light.”

“Mikoto-san, you’re making me _blush_!”

They are nearing her house now. The light is still on in the window—Fugaku hasn’t retired to bed yet. She hopes he hasn’t woken Itachi up to lecture him. That can wait until the morning, but knowing him…

“Thank you for walking me home. I hope I didn’t trouble you.”

“Not at all.” Shisui turns as they stop on the sidewalk in front of her lawn. “You know, I overheard what Fugaku-san said to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Mikoto sighs. She thinks of the pain she glimpsed in her husband’s eyes—a mirror to her own. “He didn’t mean it. He just… has his own way of dealing.”

Fugaku has an entire clan to look out for—which means he can’t afford to be lost to the past. He has to be able to push forward, and to him, that means accepting that their son is dead. There have been many times when Mikoto has hated him for this, has accused him of not caring and of wanting to forget, but she knows this isn’t true.

Thinking of Sasuke is just as crippling for Fugaku as it is for her. That’s why he can’t afford to do it. Mikoto has the luxury of losing herself to her sorrow, but he doesn’t. He is Clan Head first, grieving father second.

Itachi resents him for this. The relationship between them has never been the same, not since that night.

( _It’s my fault,_ the eight-year-old claimed, tears streaking down his cheeks, and Fugaku never tried to tell him otherwise.)

“Still,” Shisui says, “it was rude of him to leave you like that. I say make him sleep on the couch, at least.”

Mikoto rolls her eyes fondly. “Good _night_ , Shisui.”

Shisui salutes her at the pointed farewell, as she walks up the driveway. She bites her lip slightly as she reaches the door, turning back around.

“Shisui?”

“Yeah?”

Mikoto thinks of Fugaku’s words: _Sasuke is dead. Sasuke is gone._ Her chest feels heavy.

“Do you agree with what he said?” she asks him. “About Sasuke?”

There’s a pause. She’s too far away and the night is too dark, so she can’t see Shisui’s expression when he replies.

“I think… that hope is important. You shouldn’t let go of it.”

* * *

The morning sun is beating down from the sky with a vengeance. Yamato is standing under the shade of a tree, but he’s still sweating through his uniform. He watches his three students spar from twenty feet away.

Or rather, they’re _supposed_ to be sparring.

“ _Kiba_!” Sakura screeches. “Make him get off me! Oh my god, no, _no_!”

She covers her face with her arms as the small white dog attacks her with his tongue. She’s laying on her back on the ground, her blouse becoming stained with dirty pawprints.

“He just wants some attention,” Kiba says.

“He’s slobbering all over me! Call him off!”

Kiba grins, but he complies by whistling. “Akamaru! Here, boy!”

The ninken scampers off of Sakura, running back to his owner. Kiba bends down, picking the pup up and returning him to his usual place on the top of his head.

“That’s a win,” he says proudly, as Sakura stands up, brushing herself off. “This is the part where you admit your defeat, and we perform the unison sign—”

Naruto snorts. “Who’s she doing that with? _Akamaru_?”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Uzumaki?”

“You didn’t beat Sakura-chan! You just set your dumb dog on her!”

“ _What did you just say_ —!”

The two boys descend into senseless bickering. Sakura tries half-heartedly to break them up, but neither of her teammates are paying her any attention. Akamaru is barking loudly, drowning out all of their voices.

Being a jounin-sensei is extremely headache-inducing. Yamato sighs, reluctantly stepping out from beneath the tree.

“Come on, guys,” he calls out. “Naruto, Kiba—knock it off.”

The three genin look in his direction as he walks over.

“Sensei!” Sakura yells. “Look what Kiba’s filthy mutt did to my shirt!”

“ _Don’t call him that_!”

Yamato pinches the bridge of his nose as the arguing starts up again. He gives each of them a karate-chop to the head, just hard enough to make them flinch.

“Ow!”

“Sensei!”

“ _Hey_!” Naruto yells. “It wasn’t even me that time!”

Akamaru yips sharply, leaping down to the ground.

“Enough goofing off,” Yamato says to them. “The Chuunin Exams are next week. There’s still plenty of time for me to withdraw your applications.”

As he predicted, this is enough to get all of them to focus. They fall silent.

“Sorry, Yamato-sensei,” Sakura says. She brushes down her clothes again, wiping the dirt on her hands onto her shorts.

Naruto and Kiba share a contemptuous glance, then quickly look away from each other.

Yamato sighs. “You can go through shuriken drills for now. Go set up the targets over there.”

Kiba and Naruto don’t look happy—they’d much rather be learning something new than going over fundamentals—but they go with Sakura to set up the targets. Yamato retreats back to the shade.

He isn’t used to this. Teaching kids is a lot different from ANBU. In some ways, it’s so much harder than putting a sword through someone. He’s responsible for three young lives—for guiding them.

It’s—it’s _terrifying_ , honestly.

He doesn’t immediately sense Kakashi when he arrives. He’s remaining hidden on purpose, concealing his chakra. Yamato startles when he feels the faintest brush of a familiar presence, looking behind him.

_Kakashi?_

He can’t see him from where he is, but he knows the older man is there. He spares one more glance toward his students, before making his way to the other side of the training field.

Kakashi is crouched in one of the tree branches. As Yamato moves closer, he immediately realizes why his senpai is hiding. His chakra is cold and _dark_ , and Yamato’s own chakra instinctively recoils from it.

This isn’t Kakashi. This is Hound.

Yamato flickers up to the tree, landing soundlessly beside the him. His former captain is wearing his ANBU uniform, complete with the porcelain mask. He doesn’t react to Yamato’s presence.

There is a _lethalness_ to the lines of his body, the way that it’s coiled. There’s dried blood on his collar. He’s just back from a mission.

It’s familiar. Yamato does what he’s used to doing when his friend comes to him while in this state of mind—he stays completely still and waits him out.

Eventually, he can see as the pieces of Kakashi Hatake bleed through the persona of Hound. His muscles slowly loosen; the ice in his chakra thaws, the bloodlust fading.

“Are you back?” Yamato asks, once he’s sure it won’t trigger a kunai to his throat.

He sees Kakashi swallow roughly.

“…Yes,” he says, voice scraping his throat. “Sorry.”

Yamato shakes his head. “Don’t be. I told you to come to me.”

“But that was before…”

Behind the mask, his gaze moves toward the children below them.

Yamato clenches his jaw as he thinks about what could have happened. He’s told Kakashi to come to him whenever he loses himself like this—but that was before he became a jounin-sensei. A dissociating shinobi, _especially_ an ANBU agent… definitely should _not_ be anywhere in the range of children.

“They’re fine,” Yamato tells him. “You’re both fine.”

With a trembling hand, Kakashi lowers the mask from his face. He slants his hitai-ate over his left eye.

“I can’t come to you like this anymore. Not when you’ll be around them. I’ll have to go somewhere else.”

 _Or you could just quit ANBU,_ Yamato thinks. He doesn’t say it out loud.

Fourteen years is far too long to be an active ANBU agent. Yamato— _Tenzo_ —has watched through the years as it wore at him. It’s slowly killing his soul, and still, Kakashi won’t put the mask down. He refuses to.

“Can you talk about what it was this time?” Yamato asks.

Kakashi shakes his head. “Classified.”

Below them, the children are drilling with their shuriken. Yamato feels a flash of exasperation when he sees that Naruto and Kiba have started arguing again.

“Those two are impossible,” he mutters. “They’re far too alike for their own good.”

“And how is life as a genin babysitter?”

Yamato rolls his eyes, though he can’t deny that he does feel like that at times. “It’s different. But in a good way. I think I like it.”

Kakashi doesn’t respond. Yamato glances at him.

“You know, it might be good for you, too.”

The jounin scoffs quietly. “Me and children? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

He hasn’t moved at all, perfectly still on the branch. His gaze is locked on the students below him—on one of them in particular.

_Naruto._

“Kakashi,” Yamato says with a sigh, hating the pained look in his senpai’s visible eye, “if you want to go talk to him…”

Kakashi yanks his gaze away, shutters slamming closed. “No.”

And Yamato knows that tone of voice. There’s no arguing with it.

“Are you leaving again soon?” he asks instead, changing the subject. The man just returned, but ANBU agents often receive a string of missions without time in between.

“I have a mission tomorrow. Not assassination, though. Shisui and I are going along with the delegation being sent to Kumo.”

Yamato knows Shisui—not as well as Kakashi, but they’ve worked together in the field a few times.

The Chuunin Exams are beginning ten days from now. This will be the first year since the end of the Kumo-Konoha War that shinobi from the Hidden Cloud will be able to participate in the event when it’s held by the Leaf. Sending a delegation out… the Godaime must want to be sure that the peace between their two nations still holds.

“Sending ANBU agents… isn’t that risky?” Yamato asks. “The Raikage is likely to take it as a sign of distrust."

“We won’t be an official part of the delegation. We’ll be following behind them separately.”

“A separate mission?” That makes sense. ANBU agents aren’t assigned to political matters like this, so there must be more to it. “Why? Does Hokage-sama suspect Kumo of something?”

Kakashi hesitates. “…On my recent mission, I ran into a Kumo shinobi—a _kid_. I’m nearly positive it was one of the missing children.”

Yamato’s eyes widen. There are many children who have gone missing over the years, but when they’re speaking of Kumo, it’s clear who he means. _The_ missing children can only be referring to a specific pair.

There was never any true proof that the Hidden Cloud was responsible for the abduction—only a flimsy eye-witness statement given by a shaken-up eight-year-old—but everyone knew they were behind it, even if it was never proven.

“You’re _certain_?”

“The kid freaked out when I called him by his name. And he had a _Sharingan_.”

 _Damn,_ Yamato thinks. So this isn’t another one of those common reports about someone who possibly resembled one of the missing kids. This has the potential to be the real thing. But this would mean that Kumo kept the two children alive this whole time—in secret, unnoticed.

“So the both of them could still be alive. Why? What’s Kumo been doing with them this whole time?”

“I don’t know. But the kid I met… he could _fight_.”

Yamato frowns. Child soldiers—training up children at a young age. It’s a common practice, unfortunately. Even Konoha does it, though other nations are much worse.

“Should you be telling me this?” Yamato asks.

Kakashi shrugs. “Tsunade-sama never said I _couldn’t_.”

The Wood-Style user shakes his head. “ _Senpai_.”

“Maah, it’s fine. What can she do, fire me?”

“If only,” Yamato mutters.

Kakashi pretends like he doesn’t hear him. “Anyway, I trust you not to go yelling about it to the whole village. I’ll leave you to your babysitting, _Tenzo_.”

The name is spoken with a familiar teasing lilt. Yamato snaps his head to the side, hissing, “ _You’re not supposed to call me that_ —”

But the ANBU captain is already gone.

Yamato’s shoulders slump. He turns his attention back to his students across the training field. To his dismay, Naruto appears to be having a fight with Kiba’s dog.

Though Kakashi seemed better by the time he left, worry still gnaws at Yamato due to his earlier dissociative state. _He isn’t okay. He needs to quit. I keep telling him…_

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Kiba shouting—the words coming out of his mouth likely to give his mother a heart attack. Yamato sighs as he leaps down from the tree, forcing his friend from his mind to deal with his students.

_Babysitting, indeed._

* * *

Neji hadn’t intended on eavesdropping. Honest.

He was just on his way to meet his team. Tenten and Lee are both participating in the Chuunin Exams next week, and are training hard to prepare for them. Neji is already a chuunin, so he doesn’t need to train with them, but he had nothing better to do.

The Hyuuga Compound is suffocating as always. Lee and Gai-sensei are annoying with their boundless enthusiasm, but they’re still preferrable to home.

(Home with his _uncle_ , and Neji can’t look at him without seeing his _father_ —)

He was just trying to reach Training Ground 3. In order to do that, he was required to pass by Training Ground 5, where one of the new genin teams were training.

He hadn’t _purposely_ eavesdropped on the conversation being held in the trees. But he heard the faint words _missing children_ , and his feet froze.

He didn’t stay long. Only long enough to hear what he needed, paranoid he would be noticed.

“Yes! Come at me with all of your might! _Let the power of youth explode_!”

Neji twitches at his sensei’s high-spirited yell. He’s sitting off on one of the picnic tables, as his teammates spar against Gai in the center of the training field.

His mind whirls with the information he just learned. _Itachi’s little brother is alive. That must mean Hinata is—_

No. He can’t get ahead of himself.

Neji reaches up to touch the metal plate of his headband—the cursed seal across his forehead hidden beneath it. It’s a source of frustration and often even hatred for him, that he is branded like an animal. The entire Branch Family kept under the Head Family’s control.

But it is also a reminder of the vow he made long ago—his promise to find Hinata-sama, and protect her the way he was meant to.

( _I’m going to find you,_ he swore at four years old. _I’ll never stop looking._ )

He’s ashamed to admit that his vow has not remained firm. He’s wavered many times, has almost given up. Has almost let himself forget.

It’s been nearly _ten years_. Itachi has been relentless in his search during that time—but Neji’s relationship with Hinata isn’t the same as Itachi’s is with Sasuke. Neji is meant to protect her, yes, but he also barely knows her. He saw her _once_ , and he doesn’t even remember it now.

Sasuke is Itachi’s _little brother_. There’s no comparison.

Neji’s jaw clenches. Regardless of whether Hinata is alive, Sasuke definitely is. Does Itachi know? Surely he must. If Shisui is the one being sent on the mission—he’s Itachi’s best friend, he must have told him—

It seems extremely unlikely that Itachi doesn’t know. Neji feels anger flicker inside him at the possibility. He knows Hinata isn’t as important to him as Sasuke is to Itachi, but she still means a lot to him. He _deserved_ to know about this.

Itachi wanted to talk to his uncle two days ago— _clan business_ , he said. Was it actually about this?

He’s so preoccupied with his thoughts, he doesn’t notice when Lee takes a break from sparring to sit down next to him.

“Neji! You should participate in training with us!”

The Hyuuga doesn’t bother to look at him. “I’m not fighting you.”

“Oh, come on! I just want a chance to test my skills against yours!”

“Try making chuunin first.”

Lee takes this as motivation, as Neji should have realized he would. “I accept your challenge! I will become a chuunin in the Exams this year, and then I shall surpass even you!”

Neji rolls his eyes. He wonders how Lee would react if he told him Gai-sensei was considering recommending him for jounin.

(He’d probably just congratulate him and yell something about the _springtime of youth_.)

“What has you brooding?” Lee asks. He takes a long sip of his water.

Neji scowls. “I’m not brooding.”

“Yes, you are.”

The afternoon sun is blazing down mercilessly. Lee is wearing his usual green jumpsuit, and Neji doesn’t know how he isn’t roasting in it. His forehead glistens with sweat, but he doesn’t look affected.

Tenten and Gai-sensei have stopped sparring. The kunoichi is laying on her back on the grass, looking alarmingly close to a heatstroke.

Neji looks back into Lee’s earnest face. They aren’t friends, exactly. Or maybe they are. Neji isn’t exactly keen on opening up to people, but they are teammates. And Neji does trust him.

“There might be a lead on Hinata-sama,” he says.

“Your cousin?” Lee asks. “The one who was taken?”

Neji nods. Children going missing usually isn’t so widely known. But Hinata and Sasuke’s disappearance was the main cause of the war with Kumo, so more people are aware of it.

“I heard Yamato-sensei talking about it with an ANBU agent. Kakashi, I think he said—”

Lee’s eyes light up in recognition. “ _Kakashi Hatake_? He’s Gai-sensei’s rival!"

Right. Neji thought he recognized the name from somewhere.

“One of the kids was spotted.”

“That’s great!” Lee says with a grin. “Isn’t it?”

Neji touches a hand to his hitai-ate again. He doesn’t remember a lot about that day—doesn’t remember Hinata’s face. But he does remember the pain of the brand being seared onto his skin.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “It is.”

It’s just frustrating. He made a vow ten years ago to find Hinata. And maybe he _has_ wavered, but ultimately, he held true to it. It isn’t right that this information is being kept from him, not while he still has to live with this cursed seal for her sake.

Neji stands up. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

* * *

Itachi doesn’t pray as much as he should. But after spending the entire morning being lectured (read: yelled at) by his father, he decides to visit the shrine to clear his head.

He missed the clan meeting last night— _again_ , even after Fugaku specifically reminded him he come. He doesn’t even have a good reason or excuse for not attending this time, he just hadn’t wanted to.

He’s been to enough of them to know what happens at them. He has his father’s speeches all memorized by now. And it makes him boil with frustration every time he sees Fugaku standing before all of them, saying again, _my son is dead_ , with complete certainty that it must be true.

He hates that it’s the only time Fugaku speaks Sasuke’s name—when he’s using his abduction (his _death_ ) as a bullet point for why the Uchiha Clan can’t trust Konoha.

This mistrust has been building for years—almost coming to a head when he was thirteen, before miraculously calming down. Now… something is going to break, and Itachi is terrified of what that something is going to be.

When Itachi walks from the Naka Shrine, his knees aching slightly from kneeling on the floor, he’s calmer. All of his worries are still there, but he’s able examine them better, without his mind being clouded by emotions.

Fugaku hasn’t come to him about any plans yet. Which means they aren’t actively plotting against the village—just like he told Hiashi. If he does as he said he would and speaks with his father…

“Itachi!”

He looks toward the call of his name— _Neji_. The younger boy is coming toward him. His normally loose hair is in a high ponytail, likely due to the heat.

Some of Itachi’s clansmen look upset to see him inside of their compound—though whether that’s because he’s a non-Uchiha or because he’s a _Hyuuga_ , Itachi can’t be sure.

Neji’s only been inside the Uchiha District on a couple different occasions. It isn’t off limits or anything like that—anyone is allowed to enter. But there’s this feeling to it, a divide that seems to sit between the Uchiha and the rest of the village.

“Neji,” Itachi greets him. It’s obvious by the way his pale eyes seek him immediately out that the boy is looking for him. “What brings you here?”

Neji opens his mouth, then pauses as he glances at all of the people on the streets.

“Not here. Can we go somewhere private?”

Itachi frowns. “Sure.”

He takes them to the small clearing where he sometimes trains. Targets are still pinned to the cedar trees when they get there.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while,” Neji says. “I went to your house first. Your mother told me where you would be.”

Itachi’s lips quirk slightly. He hadn’t told his mother he was going to the shrine—after his argument with Fugaku, she must have guessed that’s where he’d be.

“What is it?” he asks.

Neji pauses before he speaks, his words uncertain. “…We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Itachi blinks, his surprise at the question undoubtedly showing on his face.

“I mean,” Neji quickly goes on to explain, “my cousin and your brother… we’ve both been looking for them all this time. We both promised we would find them. So if you heard something about them, you would tell me, right?”

Itachi’s heart jumps slightly. “What are you talking about? Did you hear something?”

Neji looks at him for a moment, closely. He seems to come to some sort of conclusion, because he nods, something in his expression shifting.

“I overheard something this afternoon. A kid—probably your brother—was sighted. Shisui knows about it.”

Itachi feels his breath catch at the news— _Sasuke_ —and then the second half of it catches up with him. “ _Shisui_?”

“He didn’t tell you, then?”

Itachi scowls. “No. He didn’t.”

He turns around, a feeling somewhere between hurt and anger running through him. He just saw Shisui yesterday—how could his best friend not tell him? He knows how much Sasuke means to him, how he’s spent the past _ten years_ —

Itachi fights down the sting of betrayal in his chest. He faces Neji again once his emotions are under control and not bleeding into his expression.

“Where was he spotted? Are you sure it was him?”

“I don’t know much. But Shisui and another shinobi—Kakashi Hatake—they’re being sent to Kumo to investigate. There’s a delegation being sent there tomorrow, and the two of them are meant to follow behind secretly.”

Tomorrow. That’s when Shisui said his next mission was. Itachi asked him about it yesterday. _Classified,_ he’d said.

This is hardly the first suspected sighting of Hinata and Sasuke. If the Godaime is sending two ANBU captains to follow up on it… then there must be something different about this one. She must believe it’s actually _them_ this time.

 _Sasuke_.

Itachi remembers that night—not clearly, but he remembers it. He remembers the horror of his little brother being stolen away from him, being _gone_. It’s a night that’s haunted him for nearly a decade.

“If my brother’s still alive,then that means your cousin probably is as well.”

Neji’s jaw clenches slightly. “I know.”

“We need to go with them tomorrow,” he decides. “If it’s really them…”

Neji scoffs. “We’re not on the mission, Itachi. There’s no way they’d let us come.”

“Who said anything about _asking_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Itachi: *proposes a plan to secretly sneak onto a mission they aren't a part of*  
> Neji: who are you and what have you done with Itachi Uchiha?  
> Itachi: ???  
> Neji: you're the perfect shinobi. you're like the poster child for obedience.  
> Itachi: i've disobeyed orders before  
> Neji: name one time  
> Itachi: ....  
> Neji: see! you can't!  
> Itachi: are you coming with me or not??  
> Neji: ...sure, let's go
> 
> No Sasuke and Hinata this chapter, but the next one is going to be mainly their side of things.
> 
> Also if you have any questions about how/why things are different from canon in this world (such as Kakashi still being in ANBU, why the coup didn't happen, what happened to Shino with Kiba on a different team and Hinata gone), then please ask in the comments! If it isn't spoiler-y for later in the story, I'll be happy to explain the reason behind certain changes.


End file.
